#anyways i would kill for a well written fic where they discuss this
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So much of what Bruce gets wrong with Dick and Cass has his insistence on treating them as extensions of himself and believing that what's best for them is giving them what he wanted when he was their age. Also adding to his projection is both Cass and Dick articulating that they want what he would have wanted: Cass wants the Batman symbol, she wants to help, and Dick wanted what Bruce wanted as a kid: justice for the murder of his parents, and along the way he realized he wanted to help. Then later when they break from Bruce's desires, he doesn't know how to handle them anymore. Anyways it's just interesting to me how Dick and Cass came to Bruce in very different points in their lives and yet the connection through projection is there for both of them and while that's initially what make the characters bond, eventually it ends up hurting both of their relationships when it's taken too far
#rambles#dick grayson#cassandra cain#momo don't look#anyways i would kill for a well written fic where they discuss this#Bruce not being able to handle Dick and Cass not being their own people#anti bruce wayne#tagging that just to be safe
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Can I request a Shinobu x female reader, where in both are pillars and are assigned to kill this old uppermoon (like before but was removed) and the blood demon art is that they can control or make them hallucinate so, r was affected and suddenly attacks shinobu.... Happy ending.. I'll leave the rest to you because idk what else...
P.S I love your fics !!!
Don’t Blink
Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader
A/N: I had written the Makima fic just before starting this one so of course I had to make the demon Makima. I think Muzan would legitimately be so afraid of Makima and want her dead. That’s probably why she’s not an Upper Moon anymore. Anyway, some angst with a happy ending. Thanks for reading, hope you like it! Word Count: 2,850
“Well then, (Y/n), Shinobu, do you understand your assignment?” Kagaya asked, smiling kindly in the direction of the two young women.
“Yes, Master.” They answered together, confident and proud that they had been chosen for such an important mission.
“We will not fail.” (Y/n) added for good measure.
Kagaya hummed, pleased, then added,
“Remember, this demon used to be one of the Twelve Kizuki, an Upper Moon. I believe that your tightly knit relationship and knowledge of each other will be key in finally taking her down. I wish you much good fortune, my children.”
“Thank you, Master.” They bowed their heads and dismissed themselves, finding that the sun was sinking down towards the tree line. The mission briefing had taken longer than they thought it would, but it was an ex-moon they had been discussing.
“Ready to go?” (Y/n) asked, a bit softer than her normal speaking volume.
“If I didn’t know better (Y/n), I would think that your nervous.” She lightly teased, taking (Y/n)’s hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.
“Maybe a little, but you can hardly blame me. Ex-moon or not, very few slayers have survived her. And those who did survive were physically unable to report any information about her demon art. It makes me wonder how she ever fell out of favor with Kibutsuji.”
“The reason hardly matters. All we need to focus on is killing this demon as efficiently as possible to avoid mistakes brought on by fatigue. We can do this as long as we have each other.”
“Right, no second guessing.” (Y/n) gave Shinobu an appreciative look.
It would be the first time either of them had been faced with a demon once so closely related to Muzan. (Y/n) and Shinobu had both become Hashira through beheading and poisoning over fifty demons respectively. They had yet to be subjected to a foe seemingly so powerful.
They followed their crows to the last known location of the demon, silently taking in their surroundings as they walked through the dark forest. They didn’t have to look hard, down the rugged path ahead of them, a demon emerged with her hands clasped loosely behind her back. Hypnotic golden eyes stared between them.
“More visitors so soon? I had suspected the loss of my previous status would have slayers crawling all over my territory, but this would make a combined total of seventeen slayers this week. Does your Master really think his blood was the source of that much of my power?”
“My, you seem quite confident in your abilities, but I assure you that my partner and I are more than qualified to finally bring you to the grave.”
“I find that unlikely, but I urge you to try.” The demon smiled blankly, almost surely mocking the smile Shinobu wore.
Shinobu wasn’t going to waste time bantering any longer, not on a mission this important. She unsheathed her sword and (Y/n) copied the motion only a couple beats behind. They charged at the demon, one diving from the left the other from the right.
The demon did not flinch, but she did lock her spiraled eyes onto (Y/n) as she flew towards her.
“Drop, lunge, strike.” She drawled.
Shinobu almost thought nothing of the muttered words, but she saw (Y/n)’s stance change in her periphery, followed by a frantic warning call of her name.
“Shinobu, watch out! Watch out for me!”
Shinobu turned to face her more fully, twisting her body out of the way just before (Y/n)’s sword could be buried in her stomach.
“Ready stance.” The demon ordered, walking behind (Y/n) with a sharp smile.
“What the hell are you doing to me?!” (Y/n) couldn’t help but sound panicked as her body moved accordingly. She had no control over her body and had nearly skewered her girlfriend.
“How do you like my Demon Blood Art? I’ll admit it isn’t as strong as it was with his blood more prominent in the veins, but I can still control one person’s actions at a time,” she patted (Y/n) on the cheek, her expression taunting Shinobu, “What do you think? Are you impressed? I could numb her mind too if I desired, but I think it’s much more fun to hear the desperation of teammates, friends and lovers before one ends up killing the other.”
“You demons are all the same,” Shinobu spoke lowly, a vein pulsing angrily against the skin of her temple, “such cowardly tactics.”
There was a very abrupt sound of a foot scraping against the rugged earth and (Y/n)’s swords glinted as it caught the moonlight. The demon rose her eyebrows, mildly impressed.
“Freeze.”
(Y/n) stilled, breathing a little heavier than she was a moment ago.
“I’m surprised you could move at all just now. You must be a Hashira, am I correct? That would be the only plausible explanation,” she moved around behind (Y/n) again, dancing her fingers across her shoulders, making Shinobu scowl, “I was just going to have you gut yourself after I had you finish off the little butterfly for me, but I think it would be much more fun to keep you around. It’s been ages since I had a Hashira to do my bidding.”
“That’s enough!” Shinobu sped forward, her blade poised to stab right through the center of the demon’s skull.
“Block.”
Metal clanked against metal and sparks flew.
“Kick.”
“I’m so sorry, Shinobu!” (Y/n) gasped, trying to pull back on the kick as much as she could, but she still landed a pretty solid blow against Shinobu’s ribs.
“Don’t—“ Shinobu coughed, trying to keep her breathing strong and regular, “This isn’t your fault, just keep trying to fight her.”
“Follow through.”
Shinobu lifted her sword just in time to meet (Y/n)’s, their faces so close that Shinobu could see (Y/n)’s pupils tremble in fear.
Shinobu’s sword began to crack from the pressure (Y/n)’s blade exuded.
“Shinobu, you have to go, please.” (Y/n) urged.
“I’m not leaving you, so don’t ask me again!” Shinobu braved a smile, “I’ve beaten you in sparring plenty of times, this will be no different!”
That was sparring, not life or death combat! (Y/n) wanted to yell, but the demon commanded her to her knees in an attempt to sweep Shinobu’s feet. Luckily, she jumped away, putting a few meters distance between them.
“I have to admit, you are putting on a good show.” The demon praised, “If he hadn’t cut me off because of his ego and paranoia, I would have loved to keep the both of you. We would have made quite the team.”
“SHUT. UP.” (Y/n) hissed through clenched teeth. She was trying her best to pivot towards the demon, but she was told to stand still as soon as her foot nudged slightly to the left.
“Careful now, I’ve been generous with you so far, but if you speak to me like that again, I won’t let you speak at all.” The demon warned, her tone almost jovial.
Again the demon came to stand behind (Y/n) to rest her chin atop her shoulder. She stuck her tongue out at Shinobu, smirking when Shinobu’s grip on her sword visibly tightened. She could practically hear her teeth grinding despite the distance between them.
With a few quiet orders husked against (Y/n)’s ear, they were forced back into combat. They went on for several minutes, both starting to feel the fatigue, but the only difference was that (Y/n) would be forced to keep going beyond her limits while Shinobu could not. Shinobu had been wracking her brain as she fought for her life against the love of her life, until she knew what had to be done.
“(Y/n), I need you to trust me, okay? You trust me don’t you?” Shinobu asked when their swords crossed once more.
“Of course I trust you, but I don’t like what that might entail in this moment!” (Y/n) exhaled harshly, swiping at Shinobu’s head.
“Then the next time she orders you to stab, you aim as far to the left as you can. Don’t worry about what I’m doing, just focus on aiming left. Can you do that for me?”
“Uh huh,” (Y/n) was close to tears and though her vision blurred, she was still making attacks like she could see clear as day, “please, please don’t do anything stupid.”
“Who do you think I am, (L/n).” Shinobu joked, though she knew (Y/n) would no doubt hate her for this.
Shinobu found an opening and flipped over (Y/n) to begin running towards the demon lounging upon a log a ways away from the scuffle. She eyed Shinobu curiously, but soon had (Y/n) blocking Shinobu’s path. Shinobu didn’t slow, still running towards (Y/n) head on and making her very nervous.
“Pierce through.”
As (Y/n)’s sword moved without her permission, she did as Shinobu had asked, using ever fiber of her being swing her pointed blade as far left as possible. Her breath came out in panicked bursts. Shinobu was coming in too fast. There was no way she would miss her completely if she kept sprinting at her like that.
“Shinobu!” She screamed, “Stop!”
But then they collided, falling to the ground, knees between knees. (Y/n) would never forget that sound for the rest of her life. The sound of her blade, stabbing deep into Shinobu’s side by her own hard.
(Y/n) felt something warm and viscous trickle over her tightly clenched hands, Shinobu’s pained whimper of a wheeze as her head fell to rest heavily against (Y/n)’s shoulder.
(Y/n) felt her whole body grow cold. Her mouth agape in a silent scream as tears fully began to roll off of her cheeks in waves. It hurt so badly, she thought that Shinobu’s sword must have ran right through her too. Which was just as well, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself after what she had just done, under the control of a demon or not.
“H’nobu…?” (Y/n) sobbed, her vocal chords felt so tight in her throat that they burned, any attempt to speak was nearly unintelligible.
“Awww,” the demon cooed as she glided up behind (Y/n). She knelt down and tilted back (Y/n)‘s head, drinking in the look of utter despair, “Chin up, darling. Rest assured I’ll take good care of you. After all, I need you to be in tip-top shape for whoever those tyrants send next. Whether demon or human, you’ll take care of them for me in return, won’t you?”
A breeze cut through the forest and blood suddenly spurted across (Y/n)’s face. The demon clutched at her heavily bleeding throat, looking down past (Y/n) with a bewildered expression.
“She’s not going anywhere with you,”
(Y/n) took in a deep, shuddering breath.
“Not while I’m still breathing, even in the afterlife, I would find a way to hunt you down. Have fun crawling in the fires of hell, fucking mistake of nature.” Shinobu grunted in pain, letting her hand fall back to the ground, sword clattering into the dirt.
Of course that cocky demon couldn’t be bothered to think that Shinobu would set such a clever, albeit very dangerous trap.
Though the demon was clawing her her own throat, poison bubbling through her skin, she still managed to fix Shinobu with a look almost akin to awe.
“Well played,” she croaked, “you have my respect.”
Then the demon fell to her side and after a bit of jittery flailing, she stilled, her golden ringed irises staring blankly at the couple still connected by a blade.
“Shinobu?” (Y/n) choked out, shoulders shaking.
Shinobu slid a hand up to rest atop (Y/n)’s thigh, “Try not to move too much love, you played your part perfectly, but if you jostle me too much I might be in trouble.”
“Might be?” (Y/n) bit back, making Shinobu wince because of their proximity, “I fucking stabbed you, Shinobu! I- I can feel your blood drying between my fingers.”
“Just stay calm, (Y/n). You did exactly what you needed to do. This is probably one of the better places to be stabbed in the whole abdominal cavity.”
“I’m going to need you to shut up unless you are going to tell me how we move on from here while keeping you alive!” (Y/n) yelled. Her emotions where flying through her so fast she was starting to get whiplash.
“The Kakushi should be here soon, but in the meantime if you could, very carefully, let go of your sword and perhaps create a makeshift tourniquet just to be on the safe side.”
(Y/n) did as Shinobu instructed, her eyes seldom leaving the sight of her hilt sticking into the side of Shinobu’s torso until bloody fingers tilted her chin upward so she could look Shinobu in the eyes.
“Don’t blame yourself for this. You can blame the demon, you can even blame me, but this was not at all your fault.”
Before (Y/n) could try to argue, the tandem cawing of two familiar crows and the pounding of quickly approaching feet broke her concentration and soon they were surrounded by a small pack of Kakushi fussing over them.
(Y/n) was sore and a little roughed up from some of Shinobu’s evasive maneuvers, but she was much better off than Shinobu. She waved off any Kakushi that came to flit over her while the others hoisted Shinobu to rest on her side as they loaded her into the cot.
The voices began to become garbled in (Y/n)’s ears and the edges of her vision became fuzzy and dark. The night had already been too much for her, but seeing how her sword had gone clear through Shinobu’s back, her eyes rolled back and she fainted dead away into the arms of a waiting Kakushi.
***
(Y/n) slowly faded back into consciousness, a soft humming above her and a gentle hand softly scraping at her scalp. She released a breath, she hadn’t realized she had been so tense until she sunk into the body sitting up in bed beside her, partially beneath her.
“Good morning, dear. Are you feeling a little better? It’s funny, all these years together and I hadn’t pegged you for a fainter, but I do suppose the circumstances were a bit intense.”
(Y/n)’s hand darted upward, splaying over Shinobu’s stomach, finding nothing.
“Ah,” Shinobu sucked in a breath, “Gentle please.”
“Sorry, how long— is everything— are you—?”
“(Y/n), breathe,” Shinobu coaxed, lightly scratching her nails up and down (Y/n)’s arm, “we made it home about six hours ago, my surgery took about four, and yes, I’ll be perfectly fine. Everything is alright.”
“How long have you been awake?” (Y/n) asked, allowing her head to relax fully against Shinobu’s thigh once more.
“Pretty much the whole time. I took a quick nap after my surgery and now Aoi has me on bed arrest.”
“You mean bed rest?”
“I said what I said.”
“Wait…” (Y/n) grunted as she raised herself up on her elbows to fix Shinobu with the dawnings of a disbelieving expression on her face, “Were you awake for your surgery?”
“How else was I going to know that they were doing it correctly?” Shinobu spoke as if it was obvious. “I could have just done it myself honestly, the abdominal suturing at least, but even I have to admit it wouldn’t have been the best angle.”
“Shinobu if you ever try to do your own surgery I will hit you. Do you not trust the people you trained?”
“Of course I trust them,” Shinobu chuckled, “but it’s not everyday that I get to be the patient. I wanted to see how they would fare. Between you and me, I think they were quite nervous with the exception of Aoi.”
“Of course they’d be nervous, are you crazy? Gods, and I was out cold for over six hours. And I wasn’t even shish kebabed. I’m pathetic.”
“You are not.” Shinobu sternly proclaimed. “You were put through a lot last night. I put you through a lot. I know that had our positions been reversed, I would have lost one of the last threads holding me together. I’m sorry I made you think for even a second you had killed me. I could feel your anguish down to my very core.”
(Y/n) pressed her face back against Shinobu’s thigh and looped her arms around her torso, mindful of Shinobu’s left side.
“I won’t lie, that moment is probably going to haunt me forever, but I’m so, so glad that I still have you. I love you so much.”
Shinobu’s hands came to rest between her shoulder blades and the back of her head, “I love you too, more than you could ever know.”
They held each other for many quiet beats, but then Shinobu wiggled a bit, exhaling a particularly long breath.
“Do you think Aoi would let me check the progress of some of my experiments if I ask nicely?”
“For the last time, stay in bed, Shinobu-sama!” They heard Aoi yell from the hallway.
“I am going to take that as a no.” (Y/n) chuckled, feeling Shinobu deflate beneath her.
#demon slayer oneshots#demon slayer x reader#kny oneshots#kny x reader#shinobu kocho x reader#shinobu kochou x reader#shinobu x reader#requests#anonymous
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Groundhog Dave, the 16k-word Morphic time loop extra, is finally up on TCoD. If you've been following this blog for a while, you may have seen me intermittently talk about it. Long story short, Dave is trapped in a time loop on the day of chapter 13, and we explore how he responds and unravels.
Content warnings: This is a whump fic. It features some strong violence including gun violence, suicide and suicidal thoughts, brief vomiting, a deluge of strong and demeaning language, consumption of alcohol, heavy emotional distress, existential horror, and a whole lot of children dying.
Some rambling below the cut about how it came to be and my favorite bits in it.
The first inkling of this story was when I saw someone in the Groundhog Day tag on Tumblr writing a Newsies time loop fanfic titled Groundhog Dave. I have never seen Newsies and have no idea who that Dave is, but I think of Morphic Dave every time I see the name, so instantly I pictured Dave in a time loop on the day of chapter 13, and I could not stop intermittently thinking about it. Eventually, I started writing it.
I don't remember the process of beginning to write it super well, but I remember waiting for a coach at Port Authority with Negrek after seeing the actual Groundhog Day musical and typing up the bit in the third iteration where Dave rages at God on my phone, which was definitely one of the earliest bits I thought of. I know that for a while, what I had written up in the document was the first four iterations and a bit: the original, the one that more or less spawns the Dave and Mia Discuss Family AU, the one where he snaps and gets himself killed, the one where he wakes up after that and decides he can experiment and figure this out, and the summary of his next few goes. I know the document was stuck there for a while, with intermittent tinkering and vague ideas but nothing really in the way of writing progress. On August 12th 2021, I posted in the Thousand Roads Discord about how I'd just written an entire NaNo day's worth of Groundhog Dave, and I'm quite sure there I was referring to the scene where Dave is at the hospital, fails to shoot himself to end the loop, and talks with Cheryl. In 2023, I started doing regular sprints working on it (thanks, Negrek), which was what finally got me past the finish line; before that, the document stood at about 8500 words, while it ended up at about 16500 (though with some bits and notes at the bottom).
The actual ending went through a series of iterations as I was working on it. My first idea for an ending for it was just a cruel, "He does finally fix everything and all the kids live, and then he goes to bed and wakes up in the canon timeline, because he cannot have nice things." This wasn't a super satisfying idea, of course, by itself. I went back and forth through various possibilities from there over the story's development time. At one point or another I considered different variations on whether he does manage to stay in a Better Timeline or whether he ends up back in the canon one at the end, how exactly the loop ends up breaking (initially I was genuinely thinking the loop would break one way or another once nobody dies and the Character Development would have to be leading up towards that, but later I realized it was actually tastier if he does manage it and the loop just keeps going anyway; the precise nature of the Character Development involved was also a bit back and forth), and whether the whole thing would be completely unexplained in the vein of Groundhog Day itself or if I would make more ambiguous use of Lucy's recurring penchant for being involved with bizarre supernatural happenings in non-canon extras.
I'm pretty satisfied with what I did end up with, at any rate. My first inkling of the Lucy thing was just sort of ending with ambiguous Lucy, and I wasn't sure that would really work, but it felt a lot more appropriate to actually do that once Lucy tied more into his overall character development - the couple of early iterations where he takes things out on her specifically as if it's her fault or she should have intervened, his general guilt about actually using her to intervene, the repeated conversations in the car where she manages to confront him at the right moment with why he's so mean, him managing to choose to let go and not be an ass to her in the final scene. I'm also pleased with what I landed on with the several different things happening for the first time in the final iteration: him actually mustering the ability to articulate how much he needs the kids for his life to be worth anything, and affirming that he'll keep doing it even if he'll never get to live in the good timelines, and being forced to confront the ways in which he's been cruel and unpleasant to the kids despite how much they mean to him and choose not to, and finally being able to express an honest vulnerable emotion to Jean, accept her offer for emotional support and ask her to stay up with him because he needs that. Something just feels a lot stronger to me about it with a greater degree of ambiguity about the end of the loop, no one single obvious switch that's the thing like someone was dutifully waiting for him to just say this one magic word. (Similarly, what exactly Lucy did in fact have to do with this, if anything, had to be ambiguous. The loop cannot be a concrete phenomenon with a clear singular cause, or it would have just felt wrong. I have realized I have strong feelings on when fiction should be deliberately ambiguous, not because there is a concrete truth that the author is arbitrarily concealing to force you to guess, but because one way or another establishing any concrete truth would detract or distract from the story being told.)
Some little things I enjoy in this story:
Dave's increasingly frazzled awakenings in the first few loops just really tickle me.
Him knocking on the door, then realizing Cheryl heard his sky-rant and just immediately turning around to go on an ill-advised suicide mission to the church rather than have to try to explain that to her amuses me greatly. What a timeline.
My favorite bit of said suicide mission is actually the bit where he's lying there dying and manages to spend that time being restlessly, angrily impatient about how long it's taking and grasping hard for some sense of satisfaction in having killed this stranger, without ever managing it. The most pathetic possible suicidal rampage of revenge.
The hospital bathroom scene is still my favorite scene in the whole thing. It presses my particular whump buttons extremely hard, and it's just extremely representative of Dave and his problems, him mercilessly bullying himself and Cheryl trying very genuinely to reach out to him and let him know he's not alone while he compulsively rejects it, adamant that he doesn't need anyone or anything even though he's acutely suffering, resenting her for it and shooting back at her efforts with pointless, uncalled-for sarcasm. It also has some of my very favorite lines: "There was a knock on the door and he lowered the gun quickly, like a kid caught playing with something he shouldn't," "What the actual fuck did she think he was doing in here," "Still there?" answered irritably with, "There's only one door. Do the math," when he came so, so close to not in fact still being there. So fond of it.
The offhand unelaborated upon mention that Dave has at one point or another read enough to not bungle a suicide by gunshot is extremely some precise button that I have.
I'm also deeply fond of the iteration where Gabriel dies. Dave tries so hard to force himself to decide he can live with that and just decidedly does not succeed. I enjoy him sitting there irritably thinking maybe they should have just done this in the first place when the others attempt to safely reach the police, silently pretty much convinced that would have been a better idea and thinking all this could have been avoided (but without actually consciously admitting to having been wrong, of course), only to immediately go, "He'd always known this was a bad idea. Why'd he even fucking let them?" when the consequences come knocking. You fucking let them because you thought it was probably a good idea at the time, Dave.
I really enjoy how much Dave cares about the kids, can't not care about the kids, while most of the kids have a hard time grasping how much he cares because he's so persistently Like That. Loved to write the multiple times Jack viciously accuses him of not caring about Gabriel, and the way Dave's idea of disabusing him of the notion is just to be an asshole to him, because he's incapable of expressing sincere emotional sentiment. Lucy, similarly, keeps probing him about what he's going to do if the loop doesn't stop, and he just keeps answering in evasive, defensive irritation as if she's challenging him somehow, until he finally manages to realize that no, she was worried that if his efforts wouldn't end the loop he might just stop bothering. (Only then he's finally been driven far enough to actually manage a smidge of emotional honesty.)
Similar recurring horrible dramatic irony I enjoyed: Dave hates Jean's evolved form so, so horribly much when it's just a hypothetical manifestation of Something Horrible Happening To Her that he's trying to stop and not what his daughter really looks like. One of the things that only quite felt right when I'd finally landed back on him ending up in the canon timeline was that he then actually has to confront the cruelty of that with himself and affirm his unconditional love for her, instead of being 'rewarded' with the cuter, unevolved Jean.
I always get a kick out of how relatively easily Dave in nonsenscial situations just slides from adamant atheism into antitheism without a pause. He's perfectly genuine about thinking God doesn't exist, of course, but there is a level on which he kind of wants him to, just so he can face him and walk backwards into Hell, and as a result you get these situations where he sort of entertains the idea far more easily than he rationally should given his priors. The yelling at God about why he isn't curing malaria instead of whatever this is is pretty unique to the very particular mental state he's in on that iteration, but the multiple times he offhandedly thinks maybe this is literally Hell are total nonsense in his professed belief system but nonetheless a place where his mind is just inclined to go.
Meanwhile, I also enjoy the bit where Mia gets him to contemplate that he might be experiencing proof that souls exist - but he's less willing to entertain that in the same way because it doesn't have the same emotional valence for him, so it's not something that properly occurred to him before that, and then he just throws up his hands and moves on.
Thanks if you read it! I would love to hear any thoughts on it.
#morphic#actual writing#groundhog dave#dave's terrible horrible no good very bad groundhog day#david ambrose's many issues let me tell you about them#ramble
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Hey! Just recently finished The Great and frankly I’m also upset about Grigor’s relationship between Georgina and Marial, of which I haven’t liked her character since the beginning of the show and can’t seem to fathom why he loves her. Anyways, I can’t seem to find the post where you explain why you don’t like it, and if you haven’t written/posted it, I’d love to see why!
*cracks knuckles*
Hi there! I don't think I made a whole official post about why I don't like it outside of jokes. So let me explain why here. To get one thing over with, it was a personal thing. Gwilym Lee was my celebrity number one husband-boyfriend crush for ages. I began watching The Great for him. And of course I wrote lots of Grigor x reader fics to channel my imagination and lust. So when he became a cheater in season 2, out of nowhere, without any warning...it was a shock. I tried to think through it, justify it, but it never did. It felt like even in my fantasies, I wasn't safe. I wasn't good enough. The minute I slipped up in a romantic relationship, I would be cheated on as punishment. I had panic attacks and couldn't sleep and cried for days. I couldn't even look at the show or images or of Grigor for without crying. It was as if...I was the one cheated on. I literally had to get therapy because it bothered me so much.
Okay, now that this is done, here is my personal take of why Grigor/Marial is bad as a pairing. Also, this is just me being biased and my personal take, so if you ship the pairing...eh, good for you, all the more power to ya. This post isn't for you.
Let's move onto the foundation. I've discussed it a lot with the Queen and legend @ladystrallan but here it is for all y'all. The Big reasons why. Starting with the most important one.
Reason #1) Marial does not actually give a shit about Grigor's well-being and happiness.
Often in fanfics, when Grigor cheats on George, it's because he is sad about George and the OC or Reader or whoever is worried about him. They want him to be happy, wanted, loved, and valued, and chosen. Marial does none of those things. It's never about "how can I help this poor little meow meow feel better?" It's about "what can he do for me" like she's the damn rat from Charlotte's Web.
Reason #2) Marial does not respect Grigor
If Marial did respect Grigor, she would listen to what he says. She would not blab to Catherine about Peter having sex with and accidentally killing her mother. In season 3, when Peter dies- Grigor is sobbing and in a grieving state for his best friend. Marial on the other hand is celebrating his death like the munchkins celebrating a house dropping on the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz. Let's put it this way- if someone who you loved, someone you were very close to dropped dead out of nowhere, would you want to date someone who celebrated the death as good thing? No. If she did respect him, she would support him in his grief. She would keep her trap shut. Even if she personally didn't like Peter...she would still be there for Grigor's struggle of losing his friend. At the end of the day...Marial will betray her bestie to become a lady again. She is only on her own side and no one else's. She gets some Pet The Dog moments with the serfs...but not with anyone else she has interpersonal connections with at court.
Reason #3) The Affair is selfish.
Marial does none of these things. She starts the affair not because she is worried about his well-being, or happiness, or respect or selflessly genuinely loves him...she starts it because 1) he was a former fling, 2) she is rich again and she can, and 3) to spite Georgiana. Grigor kind of wants to feel happy and alive again- but it's bc George is away from him!
I understand that fiction is not reality. We can use fiction to discuss taboo things. Or even admit that we fantasize about things we know are ethically wrong. It says nothing about us. Just because we fantasize it or like it in fiction doesn't mean we like it in real life. But...
Reason #4) The Writers paint Georgiana's affair as bad and Grigor's affair as good.
We have all of season one to see how much it hurts Grigor to see his wife be Peter's mistress. And I'm not going to pretend it is entirely good. But Georgiana does get a few lines in season 1 after the poisoning that she kind of...HAS to be Peter's mistress. That their high social standing and wealth comes from their close friendship with Peter that in no ways should be tampered with. And this includes the complete lack of boundaries with Georgiana, because he is the absolute ruler emperor. Like that line in Six The Musical- If Peter says it's you, it's you. As far as I know, Peter and Georgiana is consensual other than the implied power balance and she's lucky she likes Peter and he's a good lover. In fact, back in the day, men WOULD offer their wives as missteress to the king because you could get a huge castle and lots of lands and money from it! That's what Mary Boleyn's husband thought when Henry VIII made her his mistress. You don't technically have a choice- might as well make the most out of it.
Yet the writer(s) paint Georgiana as bad and frame Marial as good, as something that Grigor needs to heal (it ain't), that she is his true love (blech) all without taking a big look in the mirror. They don't know how to handle a complex woman as Georgiana but they think framing Marial as a girlboss makes it better (yuck).
On a related note...imagine if we switched the genders? If Grigor was Georgette and Marial was Mark, we have Georgette being lonely and swept up in her exes charms. Giving everything to Mark, even when he crosses her personal boundaries. Despite this, she keeps running back to him, swearing she'll marry him even though he hates her recently dead bestie and doesn't comfort or support her mourning.
If that was the case, there would be riots! People would be all "omg you deserve better! My poor baby! Dump his ass, queen!" But...no. Since we have Miss GirlBoss (tm) Marial, this toxicity is apparently okay.
Reason #5) Grigor's love and loyalty to his wife was part of what made his character so endearing in the first place.
It's like if Peter said "fudge" instead of "fuck," but we all fell in love with Count Dymov because he loved his wife so much. That is why there are so many Grigor fics out there. Becuase the depth of love he has not only for Peter...but for Georgiana. It's not the issue that his honor as a man is insulted to have his wife sleep around...it's because he is genuinely heartbroken and sad about it. That he loves her that much. And that he loves Peter that much too. He's crying when he tries to put a pillow over Peter's face to suffocate him. In fact, Georgiana does care about his well being despite the whole mistress stuff. When he gets scruff out of rebellion, she knocks him out and tenderly gives him a shave. They tease and flirt with each other. She sits on his lap. Who wouldn't want a relationship where you are that wanted, adored, and unconditionally loved? In fact, their only conflict was Peter. If it wasn't for Peter, they would have an idyllic, wonderful marriage. Look up The Great on TV Tropes- they are listed as "Happily Married."
So him having an affair on Georgiana, to where he is given an option to KILL GEORGIANA and abandon her for Marial felt egregiously out of character.
This is not why i signed up. I wanted him and Georgiana to heal and grow and triumph in their love, especially as the series went on and Peter focused more on his romantic relationship with Catherine to where that WAS the show.
So yeah...those are my two cents.
#the great#the great hulu#tw: cheating#grigor dymov#georgiana dymov#the great tv show#gwilym lee#phoebe fox#charity wakefield#anti marial/girogr#or#anti marial/grigor
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a symptom of being human - master post
a symptom of being human is my humanverse gerame & pruk hetalia au. i am hoping to write a cohesive story about it one day but for now i'm compiling this information here (taken from discord & my google doc) for you to look at. i'll link to the other posts here.
all posts of this au will be tagged as #asobh.
general info.
it's set in germany. arthur meant to study abroad for two semesters, but ran into gilbert because they studied the same thing (art history) and then never left. alfred wanted to escape the unites states and went to germany as an au pair, which is where he met ludwig.
arthur and gil are 4 years older than lud and al.
ludwig has autism.
alfred & gilbert are trans.
arthur speaks fluent german, alfred is learning german but is having a much harder time learning it than arthur.
alfred and matthew are still twins, but matthew lives with his father in canada, while alfred lived with his mother in the united states. they still talk generally.
the next paragraph is technically also general info but it needs to be expanded so it gets its own bullet point list here.
gilbert and his thing with death.
terminal illness! discussion of death and dying!
gilbert has an unspecified illness that is going to kill him before he's 30. i haven't decided on what yet, but it's a degenerative disease that he was born with, and it got diagnosed when he was a young child, and he has been raised with the knowledge that he won't make it past 30.
UPDATE: gilbert has hermansky-pudlak syndrome type 1, an extremely rare autosomal disorder, that causes albinism, bleeding diathesis, immunodeficiency, and pulmonary fibrosis.
he has a life expectancy of around 30, and has been raised with that knowledge. he's well aware he's going to die.
so is ludwig, of course, but it's still hard on everyone. ludwig cannot cope with the concept well, because he cannot fully grasp it.
gilbert's mortality especially becomes an issue once the relationship between arthur and gilbert becomes serious.
because gilbert didn't talk about it when they got together, because he assumed they wouldn't stay together long enough anyway, and then suddenly arthur is proposing to him and gilbert realizes this is a conversation they have to have immediately, 'cause he will not marry him under false pretenses.
gilbert is pretty optimistic despite the dying thing, usually. he planned his own funeral because he's pragmatic like that. his testament is written and he jokes about it constantly, he doesn't care because he never knew anything else. but of course even he has his limits and gets very, very upset about it sometimes.
when it comes to leaving his family behind, or even more personal things.
like settling down or starting a family he has difficulties dealing with it. because he's good with kids, maybe would even like some, but he knows it's not really feasible. he wouldn't live long enough to see them growing up, and he couldn't put the stress on arthur on raising children alone, and he couldn't put the stress on the children either. to lose a parent. adopting isn't an option because of that, and biological kids even less so because he would be too scared of passing his illness on. and he is really struggling with it, because it's something he always wanted.
the only person gilbert really talks about his issues with is his father. gilbert can't possibly imagine how hard it must be for him to know he's going to lose his son, but he talks things through with him a lot and in the end they both feel better, especially because gilbert sometimes just needs to rant.
that and his therapist. because you bet your ass germania put this kid in therapy the moment that diagnosis came.
links.
the german family. german family part 2.
pruk.
germerica.
bad friends trio.
roderich.
misc.
fic: baby, pull me closer. [prueng, explicit]
[will be updated with other links, like arts or fic.]
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Hi, i just wanted to say quickly that im rlly inspired by your WFI series on ao3, so much so i wrote my own fics (id love for u too have a tiny look at them🙏). I just think it's really good, even though the ending left me crying a little😭 I wondered if youre going to do any more Anahardt stuff at all? I understand youve slowed down since ow isnt for you anymore, and thats totally understandable. I just had a few questions;
-Were there any ideas you had (old and new) for fics, or headcanons or stuff that never made it into an actual post/fic? If so what were they, id love to know
-Ik u said WFI part 3 wouldnt come out, but i was thinking if i could write it for you instead? As in, you tell me about your ideas you had for it, and why it never took off, and perhaps i could write it myself? sort of like a little reboot. if not its totally fine👌im not offended.
But yk, if you ever get any ideas of picking the hammer back up, dont hesitate to let me know. love ur work btw, super awesome!
Hii!
First of all, thank you! You're very kind :) I would love to read your stories, and surely other people here too, so hit us with the link.
Blizzard killed the love I had for Overwatch. Not for the characters, you know, but the game itself. They destroyed WoW first, then came for OW, and I'm pissed. I'm so pissed I uninstalled both months ago and grieved what we could have had.
I have a short anahardt story almost finished. :< It's another "they get together" type of story. I really enjoy watching them get close I guess :3
I also have another big story that I'll never finish: an OW + Pacific Rim crossover that was going to be about Rein and Ana. It's actually two stories, because I never could decide which plot I liked most, so... I kind of wrote both in paralell :_) I might actually post the first chapter as standalone one of these days.
I had a million ideas for WFI3 and 4, some of which were written down in different grades of completioness. Since I dropped the project quite some time ago, I only really remember that I put on paper.
WFI3 was going to be a mashup of short stories happening on different years instead of longer chapters. I wanted to cover around 20 years or so, and this seemed the best way forward. It was going to start from where WFI2 ended, kind of fix things so that they were in friendly terms again but strictly nothing more, and end it with Rein's retirement and Ana's death.
WFI4 was going to be more similar to 1 and 2, and was going to show what Rein and Ana were doing on their own before their met again.
One of the ideas I wanted to explore for Rein --which might have never worked, but anyway-- was having a big discussion with Jack about what happened with Ana at OW headquarters, and then snatching his armour on the way out and becoming a sort of a fugitive (an idea I got from Ironhardt). This was going to be a bit in line about what Sombra said about Brigitte not knowing stuff about Rein's retiremnt. He would be in hiding but helping people until the fall of OW, where the UN would stop actively looking for him. Then Brigitte would join him after he comes to the Lindholm's house looking like what the cat brought : )
They were to go here and there and answer the recall on Gibraltar. Torb and Bastion were going to be there, just like Jack and Ana (with their masks on), Tracer, Winston, and others, and everything was going to go to hell pretty quickly from there.
I envisioned Bastion and Rein's encounter a bit more dramatic that what Blizzard showed us. Blizzard always hinted at Rein having some sort of trouble with his memory and whatnots, which I was going to address at the end of WFI3 (the reason for it) and in WFI4 (where sometimes he thinks he sees and hears things, like a rogue bastion ticking or Ana's ghost -- which happen to be very real).
WFI4 would have some of the ideas of the Anahardt 2018 stories I wrote as well. Particularly the conversation they have where Ana explains what happened to her and why she did what she did-- with the difference Rein wouldn't have caved this time. I wanted Ana to work hard this time to get him back. He deserved it lol.
I wanted WFI4 Ana to be different in quite some aspects, after everything that happened to her. She wasn't going to know which memories she had were real. So in a way, Rein would understand what she was going through. And I wanted Brigitte to be fiercely protective of him, hissing at Ana, so to speak, and telling her to stay away.
I'm all happy that you find inspiration on my stories and that they make you write. If you want to continue what I started, go for it. I won't share my drafts or ideas in more detail, since whatever you write has to be your story, not mine, but the universe is out there so to speak. Go ham. Have fun. And share when you're done!
I'll give you a little parting gift though. The first bit of WFI3:
Sep 2056 -- Sweden
“Yes, I am sure.” Torbjorn rolled his eye, his patience obviously running thin. “It’ll be fine. Aha. Yeah, we have the SUV he borrowed from HQ. Ah, what now?”
There was a moment of silence so poignant that Reinhardt looked at his friend. He was glaring at the coffee table as if he wanted to disintegrate it, but then his gaze softened.
“That’d be fine, I think. Thanks. Talk to you soon.”
He hung up with a flick of his wrist and leaned back on the bunch of pillows they were sharing in front of the TV.
“So…? What happened?”
“Dr Shollner seems positive that you’d recover sooner since this time the rest of your leg is not in pieces.”
“That’s a relief!”
“He will perform the surgery in two days, back at the base.”
Reinhardt swallowed. That was not the plan. He was supposed to fly to Sweden, fix his leg in the hospital where Angela’s parents used to work. The whole point was not going back to Switzerland yet.
“I know, I know,” Torbjorn sighed, closing his eye and resting his hand over his midsection. “I tried, but it wasn’t negotiable. The good news is you’ll be back home with us the next day.”
One night of being on bad drugs. He could manage that.
“The better news is I’m going with you. So you better behave; I need my beauty sleep.”
“What? No. You need to rest. There’s no need to—I’ve got this.”
“Shut up. I said I’m going, and I’m going,” he snorted softly. “I can do some designing from home, but I’d rather bring some of my equipment here.”
“Designing?”
“For my arm,” he waved his hand, lazily. “And for your armour. No point in having surgery now if the armour is not helping you enough.”
Reinhardt shifted in the pillows. He was not sure how much of his plight was his armour, and how much was just wear and tear. However, he would take armour improvements with grabby hands.
“And…” He started after a moment of silence, after noticing his friend was still frowning at whatever he learned over the phone. “Can you make it so that I could jump ah, let’s say, down from a building? Like taking a big plunge.”
“No! You should not be jumping off buildings. Wasn't last time more than enough?" The engineer glowered. "What’s gotten into you?”
“Ah, I was thinking it would be really cool if I could be deployed directly from the aircraft. You know, just dropping to the groooound, and boom!”
Torbjorn turned his head towards him, an indescribable expression on his face.
“No more brännvin for you. Or sugar.”
“Aww…"
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Unpopular Opinion (I think): This is very much a personal preference but I think a lot of 00Q fics/writers make Bond too soft. Not soft in an emotionally available way but soft in a good person way. I just think there aren’t enough fics that really acknowledge that Bond is supposed to be a very mentally and emotionally unstable person and that, objectively, he’s not a good person. Because to me, in canon, he very much isn’t and that’s fine because that’s half of what makes him a compelling character and I feel that a lot of writers kind of just skip over that part. And honestly, I understand, I completely get it, it’s not a easy nor pleasant thing to write but to put him in a romance with Q, or anyone for that matter, I just can’t imagine that story being wholly pleasant. This isn’t to say people should only write bond as a dark, festering character, I have read and loved my fair share of indulgent 00Q fluff with an all too lovable bond but this is just my opinion and after all, this is just fanfiction.
Not me feeling personally victimised on my own unpopular opinion ask. 😂
I'm joking, I really am. This is a great point, and likely not as unpopular as you think it is! I love Soft!Bond as much as anyone, but I can definitely see your point, especially when I consider the wider canon outside of Craig!Bond's interpretation. I'm going to selfishly use your ask as a jumping off point for my own take on this, which might not fit exactly to yours, and people might curse me for, but here you go.
You're right. He's not a good person. Though I think there's this myth around him (in-universe and out of it) that makes people think he is. But a good person would not do what he did to Madeleine in that car in Matera. Nor would they have got themselves into that situation with Severine (I can see why he approached her, I cannot see a good person having sex with her knowing about her past in the Macau sex trade). And he's just fine with killing, I think. It's become rote for him, almost a chore. He would do it for anyone, given a decent enough reason (and sometimes that boils down to 'because M said so').
I can guess at a couple of reasons why he's more soft in fics. I think Craig's interpretation of Bond took him on a journey to at least wanting to be a good person. To claw back whatever lightness was left in him (he'd once talked about that to Vesper, though by the time we get round to NTTD, there are questions around how much of it is left).
It's quite cathartic to explore that in fic, or at least it has been for me, because the minute he realised he wanted to be a better man was about ten minutes before the end of NTTD and we never saw it play out. It's interesting to consider what might have happened if he had that realisation earlier, or to a consider an alternate universe where he got the chance to live with it after Safin's island.
Also, I think it's moral ambiguity is an extremely difficult thing to write well, especially when canon shows so little in the way of Bond's inner life. That's an intentional choice by filmmakers, I'm sure, because Bond isn't meant to be a person, really. He's an idea - stand-in for both empire and masculinity, with all the good and bad that entails. And it does entail both with Bond. That's a really difficult balance to find when you're writing him. And it's not exactly very escapist, is it? I'll confess I find myself rarely wanting to read Dark!Bond fics, though I do enjoy them, because written well, they really fuck you up. When I read fics, I don't often want to be fucked up, unless it's by emotional idiocy, angst, or really, really hot smut :')
Anyway, to conclude, it's only fanfiction. Write him the way you want! But it's fun to consider all angles of his characterisation.
Thanks for sharing, Nonnie! This was a great ask 🖤 Now, discuss amongst yourselves in the replies, reblogs, or in my asks (fuck shit god what am I getting myself into ahaha).
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I go back and reread your posts occasionally because I really resonate with your posts about Epic Romance that I think transcends some of the tropes fandoms evolve around (e.g. enemies to lovers) which I don't always find myself connnecting with. I am just a bit curious about something:
What do you think of the pairing Solas/Lavellan from Dragon Age? (I searched your blog for it just in case you already spoke on the subject but sorry if I missed it).
I don't know if video games are your thing, or if a Player Character changes the dynamic you're into, but I was curious because it's a mythic romance of quite epic proportions. I know you've mentioned you sort of don't like a blog that is into adjacent ships to it (I think when you discussed Raistlin/Crysania) or maybe I'm just reading into that hahahah, so I understand if that influences if you do/don't. What I like about it beyond the character of Solas is that it's a tragedy with potential for hope ('Our love will endure'), and I think that's something your speed?
If you are not interested in the pairing (though I'd be interested to hear why, especially because Solas hits a few similar archetypal boxes and the reason why you don't like the pairing is as interesting to me as why you would!) and want another question to respond to instead:
2. Are there any new ships you've got into recently, or old you've revisited?
Hope you are doing well and doing the things you love!
Thank you for the ask! Yeah, same. EtL is only rarely written with the dynamic that I like, so most of the popular ships are not for me. I think I've disappointed a lot of fellow travellers by having zero interest in rivalry or frenemies style EtL ships.
I do play games, but I've only played like five minutes of one of the Dragon Age games. I've seen a lot of people talking about Solas and know he's the wank magnet tragic murder boy fav of the franchise, but I haven't gathered much of anything about the ship dynamic. I don't know enough about his arc/characterisation to say whether I'd be interested. But for sure, if there's an element of enduring hope, tragic romance can be my thing (so I read 5437540 fix-it fics).
I'm sorry I really don't have any thoughts to offer either way! :( If I get around to playing the game, I will post any ramblings I have about it!
I'm developing a fic for my long latent and repressed Cosmo/Kathy shipping urges, but that's like a radical departure for me on several levels lmao. Yes, I confess, sometimes I'll ship a couple of wholesome cinnamon rolls who have zero conflict because the banter is spicy and the vibes are adorable.
It's so funny how people are always trying to compare B&tB ships (like Reylo, E/C, etc. with grotesques or tragic heroes) to the Bad Boy/Ingenue/Nice Guy triangle and dismiss redemption romance fans as silly girls who haven't learned their lesson about being attracted to Bad Boys, because any example you can name of a triangle where the love interest is actually a Bad Boy, I ship her with the faithful friend (not a Nice Guy, but a legitimately nice guy). Like, I watched Pretty In Pink a couple years ago and man it was obvious she was not supposed to end up with Blane. I felt so vindicated when I read about the intended ending lol.
But anyway, I've been crying about whouffaldi again lately, re-reading some E/C fics, thinking of fleshing out/finishing some very self-indulgent E/C one-shots I made notes for, still wanting to write that Oh Hyun Jae/Soo Young fic that I accidentally wrote a kind of weird 'humour' prequel too D:, and as always trying to finish my Lokane fic finally. It has 2-3 more chapters, tops, and it's killing me I can't just get it done. It already has its main emotional climax, so I'm not leaving people hanging too bad, but maaaaannn!!! I swore a blood oath with myself I wouldn't start another novel-length fic until it is finished and this has lead to cascade of procrastination where I use it as an excuse not to do other things while also making zero progress with it. Agjkdfhdfd.
Also, I kinda want to add that extra chapter to my Bang-won/Hui Jae fic because I looooooove him and it's such a great pairing and I was pleasantly surprised how well that fic turned out, but it would be hard to justify and thus hard to find an 'ending' for it. It'd just be some 'stuff' pasted on lol.
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This is a Genya Shinazugawa x OC (Gideon Azulyss) MLM Fic 🏳️🌈
AN/ This is the softest shit I've ever written I swear lol.
CW/ Some swearing, light talk about phobias? Nothing too terrible just cute stuff.
Word Count: 1,046
The Demons We Face | Chapter 4, The Butterfly
The duo made a plan to investigate the town, splitting up to cover as much ground as possible in the daylight with a set time to touch base and eat lunch. From there, they'd need to do any prep work needed for the evening hunt, including taking a nap to be well rested for the moonlight venture.
They got dressed rather unceremoniously. Gideon faced the wall, pulling his freshened uniform on. He only wished he could bathe before putting clean clothes on, but a bath would have to wait until they had a break. They needed to make the most out of the morning hours so that they'd have time to discuss. But perhaps after dinner he could clean up.
They equipped their weapons; Gideon carried his hammer on his back, slinging the strap on one shoulder, while Genya ensured his wazakashi was in place and holstered his shotgun.
Gideon had eyed the shotgun with interest. He'd not seen too many guns; corps members didn't use them in general for demon hunting because demons had to be killed via decapitation with nichirin metal. He'd only spent a little bit of time outside of the city in his youth, too… and where it may be more common for country people to have guns for protection and hunting purposes, city people didn't have such needs.
“So like… do you carry the gun for wild animals?” He asked, green eyes shining curiously to meet his gaze.
Genya shook his head. “Nah. I have special bullets and good accuracy. The gun is a tool for demon slaying.”
Gideons interest only grew. He wanted to see him fire the gun. “That's so badass…” he said, grinning big before moving towards the front. Genya tried not to, but he smiled at the praise anyway, and turned to follow Gideon outside.
Except Gideon wasn't moving after opening the door. His eyes had widened as if he'd seen a ghost and he clutched the frame. Genya was instantly on edge. “What is it?!” He said, trying to keep his nerves but definitely ready to draw his gun if it was an animal or something.
But Gideons eyes were glued in terror… to a butterfly that had flown over to a nearby flowerbed. Right along the path they'd have to take.
He knew his fear of butterflies was dumb. His eyes went back to Genya and he looked absolutely terrified. “Um… it's… it's nothing? Can you go first though?” He said, shuffling behind the taller boy who now looked confused.
“...Okay? Sure.”
Genya had a look around. Whatever Gideon was terrified of, perhaps it had gone away on its own. He paid no mind to the little butterfly drinking it's nectar and went outside, looking back to Gideon.
“...Coast is clear…? Ready?”
But Gideon still locked onto the butterfly. And in a moment of fucking terrible timing, he had stepped out of the house, flipped the butterfly off with both hands as he moved around it, only to have it FLY OFF OF THE FLOWER RIGHT TOWARDS HIM.
“EEEEEK!”
Gideon ran behind Genya, and while the butterfly had no interest in following him, Gideon wasn't about to look around for it.
Genya was… floored. Dumbfounded. What? He watched the little insect fly to the neighboring yard and then looked to Gideon who was clutching his yakuta.
“... It's gone. It flew that way.” He said, pointing away but eyes not leaving Gideon.
How… are you even a demon slayer if you're scared of something like butterflies? But now so much more stuff makes sense.
Gideon let go of his clothing, instantly hiding his face out of embarrassment. He groaned into his hands.
“... If it makes you feel any better, I'm scared of spiders.”
Not to the extent Gideon was showing fear, but… he didn't need to know specifics. Genya looked at him in his embarrassed state, and where he could have gotten annoyed he just…
He was reminded of his little brothers and sisters. They were scared of things too, and as one of the older brothers trying to help out sans a father, he knew a few things about phobias.
From his hands, Gideon spoke to Genya. “A lot of people are scared of spiders. I've not met anyone else scared of butterflies but they're just… so fast, and quiet, and unpredictable… and they can suck blood with their weird little straw mouths…”
Genya snickered a little. “...They mostly drink nectar I think.” He reached over to gently move Gideons hands from his face. “Listen. If there are any other butterflies around, just swat at them. They won't fuck with you, they'll fly away.” Genya takes a couple steps back and demonstrates a couple of really goofy karate chops. “Like this! Think they want any of this? No. They don't! Hyaa!!”
The antic makes Gideon smile, he feels a lot less embarrassed. Genya smiles back to him, feeling glad that it seemed to help. “Gonna show me your moves or am I the only one shadow-chopping the air?”
Gideon grins, doing a couple of chops as he giggles. Genya shimmies closer and lightly does a chop towards his stomach. “Fatality!”
Gideon holds his gut and stumbles back dramatically, outstretching his arm. “Oh no! I had so much to live for!!~” He then laughs, shaking his head. He can't stop smiling as he looks to Genya.
“I feel like I can kick some butterfly ass now. Thank you, partner!” He says, beaming happily at him. “Shall we go?”
Genya nods, still pleased that he was able to help. Gideon starts out walking slightly ahead of him but slows down to match his pace, walking by his side instead.
As they walk the path into the main part of town and part ways, Gideon steals a glance at Genya as he walks away, and accidentally catches him looking back for the same reason. He blushes and scurries ahead, warm thoughts of Genya doing silly fighting moves making him smile.
Genya thinks of how Gideon’s face looked genuinely happy, and he felt good about helping him get to that place.
The smiles for both boys turned into determined expressions as they both focused on the tasks ahead. The people in this township were counting on them, after all.
#demon slayer#demonslayer oc#fanfic#genya shinazugawa#genya x oc#kimetsu no yaiba#kny oc#kny#demon slayer fanfic#fanfiction#ao3#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#ao3 crosspost#gideon azulyss
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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 25: Girls' Trip Fairytale Ending--Jen's Tale
Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)
Rating: G
Word Count: 3199
Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 20 21 22 23 24 26 27 28 29 30 31 32
Notes: This story is the 4th of an eventual 5 chapters of a story I wrote for the birthdays of @jrob64, @snowbellewells, and @kmomof4.
CS Genre: Season 6 fix it fic
Jen didn’t know what she expected transportation via storybook to be like, but she was delighted to discover it was something like entering a snowglobe. Snowflakes swirled around her, and she watched with delight as they landed on her arms, her shoulders, the ends of her hair. Each one was different, but each was thoroughly exquisite in its own way. She knew that most people didn’t get her love of winter and snow but it was beautiful and fascinating, and she would go on loving it despite what anyone else might say.
So engrossed was Jen in the snow swirling around her, that she barely noticed moving from her place in the cabin until the air cleared and she found herself just inside the Charming’s flat. Her eyes fell first on the tremendous, festively decorated Christmas tree in the sitting area and then the simpler evergreen wreath hanging on the inside of the door.
So it was Christmastime in her version of events? Well, why not? Wasn’t Christmas the time for magic? And she would need some heavy duty, industrial strength magic to fix the mess Isaac had made of the latter part of season 6.
“So Hook….he killed my father? Okay, that’s a little tough to process.” she heard David say from the kitchen area, and suddenly she knew just exactly where they were in the story.
She hung back for a moment, trying to figure out just the right time and the right way to intervene.
“I was hoping I didn’t have to tell you,” Emma said, sounding defeated from her perch on the breakfast bar.
“Where the hell is Hook anyway?” David asked, aggressively pacing the kitchen. “He didn’t have the guts to come tell me himself?”
If anything, Emma looked even more dejected. “There’s more. Hook, he … he left town.”
“What?” David exclaimed, finally coming to a stop and staring at his daughter in disbelief.
“We had a big fight about him hiding this, and I told him if he wasn’t ready to trust me that, that we shouldn’t talk for a while,” Emma said, “so I guess he wasn’t ready, because Leroy saw him on the docks, and he got on the Nautilus and just…sailed away.”
At this, Jen found herself shaking her head, hurrying forward to intervene.
“Emma,” she said gently, “are you sure? Are you absolutely SURE that’s what happened?”
Emma looked up, anger and pain written all over her face. She spread her hands wide. “He’s not here, is he? What am I supposed to think?”
“I know how hurt you are by all that happened,” Jen said, “but hasn’t he shown you yet that you don’t need to put up your walls to protect yourself from him? Hasn’t he proven how much he loves you?”
“Not enough to keep from hiding things from me,” she muttered.
“Kind of like how you hid the truth about the shears and your destiny as savior from him?” Jen asked, being careful to keep any hint of accusation from her tone.
“That’s….that’s different!” Emma spluttered, jumping from the counter and striding purposely toward the coat rack. “I’ve gotta get to the station. Look, whatever you or I or anyone else might think of him, the facts are the facts, and the fact is that Leroy saw him leave me. End of discussion.”
As though to punctuate her sentence, she stepped out the door and slammed it behind her. The Christmas wreath on the door fell to the floor with the violence of the action. David moved forward to replace the decoration on its perch.
“You know I’m right, don’t you David?” Jen asked.
He didn’t look at her, instead taking long moments to adjust the wreath just so on the door. Finally he turned back to face her. “She’s my daughter, Jen, and she’s hurting, and he’s the cause of it, whatever led to it. My focus has to be on helping her heal”
“But if things aren’t exactly the way they look…if maybe this is the work of a villain or something,” Jen said, “wouldn’t the ideal way to help her be to figure out the truth? And you know Killian. You know how much he loves Emma. Doesn’t he deserve the benefit of the doubt?”
David frowned, and Jen could tell her words struck a chord in him. “I suppose you’re right.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With another delightful swirl of snow, Jen found herself transported to the sheriff’s station where David and Emma were discussing digitizing files and the merits of busywork to help dull the pain. She decided to hang back in the shadows, watching to see how this scene played out.
“I’ve got just the thing to mend a broken heart,” Regina said happily, brushing snow off of her coat as she breezed into the station and held up a small piece of paper rolled into a scroll.
Emma eyed it warily. “Whatever spell that is, I don’t want it. I’m seriously not in the mood for magic.”
“Who said anything about magic?” Regina said unfurling the scroll which was covered in so many images of the season, it looked like Christmas had thrown up all over it. “It’s a two for one drink coupon for that new club, Aesop’s Tables. Seems they’re having a big Christmas sale. It’d be a shame to waste it!”
David stepped up, looking at the coupon and shaking his head. “Really? You think half priced liquor is the way to go.”
“I certainly do,” Regina said. “We need a ladies night out, me, Emma and Snow. We go early enough, we can get back in time for Christmas eve with the family.”
Emma looked unimpressed at the suggestion. “Remember she’s in a sleeping curse? She’s at home. Asleep.”
“Well, she doesn’t have to be asleep,” Regina said with a meaningful look at David.
“Oh come on! I just woke up!” he said. Regina gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes. “I guess she doesn’t have to be asleep.”
Emma got to her feet, clearly in no mood for any of this. “I can’t. I’m about to go on patrol, and shouldn’t you be trying to break that curse?”
Regina blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, I’m working on it, but I could use a break. We all could. I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re trying to hide it because, well, you’re Emma, but you can’t just run from this.”
Emma gave her a hard look. “I didn’t run. Hook ran, so, there’s nothing more to say.” She placed the last file on the pile in front of her with rather more force than strictly necessary, and then headed toward the door. It was abundantly clear that she was running from the conversation as much as she was heading out on rounds.
“You know,” David said speculatively as she walked out, “I’ve been thinking.”
Regina snorted, “a dangerous pastime.”
He glared at her and then went back to the topic at hand. “I’m not sure it’s true. I’m not sure Hook really DID run,” he finished.
“Well he’s not here, is he?” she asked, gesturing around the office to make her point. “Seems your daughter has some reason to think he skipped town.”
“Leroy,” David said.
“I beg your pardon?” Regina said.
“Leroy’s her reason,” David said. “He apparently saw Hook on the docks, told Emma something about Hook getting on the Nautilus and sailing away.”
Regina tutted derisively. “Leroy? Emma’s just going on the word of that gossip girl?”
David shrugged. “You know how hard it is for Emma to trust, how closely she guards her heart. She’s hurting, but you and I both know Hook. That man isn’t capable of loving by half measures. It doesn’t make sense that he’d decide he doesn’t trust her and just….cut his losses and skip town.”
Jen nodded in satisfaction. That’s the David she knew, rather than the clueless one Isaac wrote, the one who was ready to believe the worst of Killian at the slightest provocation.
“I guess you have a point there,” Regina conceded, “and we do have a psychopath running around trying to separate Emma from all her sources of support. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe it’s time to give the pirate the benefit of the doubt.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With another swirl of snow, Jen found herself in the sitting room of Emma’s house. She smiled as she saw the tall Christmas tree in the corner, bedecked with lights and garland and all manner of hook, swan, storybook and Disney character ornaments.
The smile slid from her face as she spied Emma and Henry sitting together at opposite ends of the sofa. Henry played on his phone, earbuds in place while Emma slowly, gently placed Hook’s possessions in his chest. She hesitated as she reached Liam’s ring hanging from its chain. She held it close, looking down at it, the tears coming to her eyes in spite of herself.
Beside her, Henry seemed to notice her distress. He pulled the earbuds from his ears. “Mom, you okay?”
Emma took a deep breath and decisively placed the ring in the trunk and closed the lid. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered. “I have to be,” she added under her breath. “Henry, can you take this out to the shed later?”
Henry nodded. “Yeah, whatever you want.”
That was it? That was all Henry had to say on the matter? Clearly it was time for Jen to intervene again.
“Take a moment to think about this Emma, Henry,” Jen said. “Look at what’s sitting before you. Hook’s chest, filled with all his most prized possessions. If he was going to leave you, why would he leave all of that behind?”
Jen saw a small glimmer of hope dawn in Emma’s eye, but just as quickly it disappeared. “I don’t know, but I’ve already told you. I have to face the facts. Holding on to false hope only hurts worse.”
Beside her, Henry furled his brow. “Jen’s got a point, mom,” he said, Jen nodded in satisfaction. Maybe the Truest Believer was ready to work his (metaphorical) magic once more. “Killian spent two hundred years trying to avenge my grandma Milah. Once he loves someone, he loves them forever.”
There was that tiny spark of hope in her eyes once more. It lasted longer this time before it faded. “But sometimes love is not enough. Seems that’s the case with Hook.”
“Mom, he literally went to hell for you,” Henry said. “You two were proven True Love. When Zeus wanted to send Killian to his ultimate reward–to the place he truly belonged–he sent him back to you. You really think he gave all of that up over an argument?”
Emma took a moment to think this over and seemed to be on the verge of responding when there was a brisk knock on the door, and a moment later David and Regina strolled in.
“Regina…what the hell?” Emma asked, getting to her feet.
“Your Charming father and I have been talking,” Regina said, “and we’ve come to the conclusion that you’re being an idiot.”
“I’d like to point out for the record, that that is not the conclusion I came to,” David said with an exasperated glare in the direction of his step-mother-in-law. “I said that I thought your pain might be clouding your judgment.”
“Technicalities,” Regina said with a wave of the hand.
Emma rolled her eyes. “As much as I’m enjoying the bickering at my expense,” she drawled, “is there a point to your visit?”
“We were thinking,” David said, stepping forward. “How many times in this town has a villain screwed with things and made circumstances seem different than they are in order to despirit the heroes and further their plan? How can we be sure Gideon didn’t, I don’t know, do something to make Killian leave?”
There was that hope in Emma’s eyes once more, and this time it stubbornly refused to fade. “Do you really think that could be the case?” she asked.
“Of course!” Henry said, “and we know what Gideon’s trying to do! He’s trying to separate Emma from all her sources of support before the final battle! It would be just like him to get rid of Killian, her true love.”
“But…” Emma said, starting to protest once more, but far more weakly this time.
“Emma he’s your True Love, and that’s a special kind of magic,” David said, placing his hands on her arms. “Don’t you at least owe him–and yourself–trying to figure out for sure?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Emma said, “but how? Forget why he left. We don’t even know where he went.”
Jen stepped up, looking at Regina. “It’s Christmas time. Surely there’s some sort of…I don’t know…enchanted Christmas ornament ro something that can help us out.”
“I don’t know about an ornament,” Regina said slowly, “but there is the legend of the Christmas wreath.”
“What legend is that, mom?” Henry asked.
“Well the evergreen wreath is a symbol of everlasting love, right?” Regina asked. “You know, evergreens never shedding their green needles, the circle the symbol of that with no beginning or end, all of that?”
Emma shrugged.
“Well, apparently, at Christmastime, the wreath has a special, even greater magic,” Regina says. “The magic of the season enhances its True Love properties, and, in short, if someone is True Love, it’s said they will be able to see their True Love in it, assuming they adorn it with something meaningful belonging to said True Love.”
“One problem,” Emma said. “I don’t have a wreath.”
“But Grandma and Grandpa do!” Henry said excitedly. “They made it together and it’s on their door! That could work, couldn’t it?”
Regina groaned. “Given how utterly sickening their True Love is, I’d say a wreath they lovingly made together might be the perfect option.”
“And as for something meaningful to Killian,” Emma said, reaching into the trunk and grasping Liam’s ring, “I’ve got the perfect thing.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” David asked with a broad smile. “Let’s get back to the loft!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I don’t see anything,” Emma said dejectedly several minutes later.
Regina had poofed them directly to the loft, and Emma had wasted no time in draping Liam’s ring over her parents’ wreath before staring into the center of it.
“You have to believe, Emma,” Regina said, “truly believe in the strength and everlasting nature of your love. You need to put all doubts from your mind.”
Emma took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked back through the center of the wreath. She gasped, hearing him before she saw him.
“Emma? Emma are you there? I didn’t mean to leave. I was on my way back to you and Gideon, he sent me away.”
Slowly the picture began to emerge from within the wreath. Killian seemed to be in some exotic place, a place in the desert. If Emma wasn’t mistaken, he was standing beside…was that Ariel?...and he was speaking into what looked like a seashell.
“Seems he’s trying to communicate via ‘shell’ phone,” David grinned. Regina groaned and Emma shushed them both, concentrating on what she was hearing from the wreath…or shell…or whatever the hell was happening.
“I would never leave you. Emma. He wanted me out of the way, and I love you. I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m trying to get home to you, and I won’t ever stop until I do.”
Tears of relief filled Emma’s eyes and spilled down over her cheeks. “Killian?” she answered.
Through the wreath, she saw him start and look down in wonder at the shell in his hand. “Emma? You’re there?”
“I’m here,” she said tearfully. “I hear you. I love you too!”
“I’m trying desperately to get home to you,” he said. “Christmas is tomorrow, and I couldn’t bear to spend it without you. Do you have any suggestions?”
Emma looked around at Regina. “Anything more to that wreath legend?” she asked. “Can it, like, transport someone?”
“Well,” Regina said slowly, “I suppose it’s possible, if he could find a wreath of his own and something of yours to tether them together. Maybe the wreath could bring him home.”
“Are you there, love?” Killian asked.
“He can’t hear you?” Emma asked Regina.
She shrugged. “Well he’s not my True Love.”
Emma rolled her eyes before telling Killian what Regina had just conveyed to her. It was a matter of just a moment to get everything arranged. As luck would have it, Ariel had, among her tremendous collection of random things, a Christmas wreath, and Killian was able to tether it to Emma’s by adding her engagement ring to its boughs.
There was a flash of Christmas lights, and then he was there, back in the room with them.
Jen held her breath, knowing what was coming, thrilled at the prospect of being a witness to it. She pulled back to give them a bit of privacy, even if she had no intention of withdrawing entirely from a scene of such great importance to her very favorite fictional couple.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” Killian said, taking her hand. “I should have told you what I did to your grandfather all those years ago, and I should never, never have even considered running away.
Jen noticed the tears in Emma’s eyes, her watery smile as she looked up at him. “It’s okay. I didn’t exactly make it easy for you to tell me the truth. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She turned away, trying to pull him with her, but he held his ground. “No,” he said, “no, there’s something I have to do before I get pushed into another portal and this time, I’m gonna do it the right way.”
Killian reached into his jacket pocket, wincing with the pain the movement caused his bruised body. He pulled out the engagement ring and Jen noticed how brilliantly it shown in the light of the Christmas tree behind them.
“Swan,” he continued "I know that you face an uncertain future, but there’s one thing I want you to be certain of–that I will always, always be by your side.” He sunk to one knee gazing up at her with every ounce of the love and adoration he felt for her. “So, Emma Swan, what do you say? Will you marry me?”
While normally not nearly as exuberant as Krystal, it was only with great difficulty that Jen restrained herself from squealing. The scene had been beautiful and romantic when she’d watched it on her TV screen–multiple times–but being there, in person–there were no words.
And then when Emma got to her knees beside him, took his face in her hands, gave him her yes and then kissed him tenderly, there was no way Jen could have held back her ecstatic sigh.
Neither Emma nor Killian, who were thoroughly engrossed with each other and cocooned in their love nor anyone else in the room heard or noticed as the snow swirled one last time to transport Jen back to the cabin.
NEXT CHAPTER->
#christmas reruns 2023#cs fanfiction#captain swan christmas ff#my fanfiction#girls' trip fairy tale ending
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...Well, it's not THAT often but still way more than I care to admit😅🤷🏻♀️🙈
Haha, okay, well, let's just forget this discussion then🙈
Nope, no hamburgers with puppies and ham😅😰
Ohhhh, Weltschmerz? Teachers included? Consider me officially very curious🤔😂 Your field of study sounds interesting!😁
Yay, Chris, Yay💃🏻💃🏻
Awww maaaan... Just wait, one day I'll finally have time to learn all the languages I wanna learn and I'll learn polish, too, even if it were just to be able to read your fics!🙈😂🙈
😂😂
...Don't kill me, yesterday I might have asked LW more generally about whether Bal-Seg knew more about Mon's mate or not🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈
Nah, I WILL write it, even got the okay from LW to write a One-shot in which Bal-Seg survived, but when I write that, I wanna get his characterization and all the details LW gave us in PiaD right, so I'll have to sit down and properly re-research everything Bal-Seg related, but life is annoying shit, so I really don't have the time to actually do that right now🙈 Hopefully I'll be able to work on that soon, but probably not for at least another 2 months or so🙈🙈
Ohhhhh, okay, no kidding, I NEED you to write that, like, Mon drinking everyone under the table to get that treaty and Kara blowing up at him sounds SO.PERFECTLY. early S2!Karamel, I could cry🙈🙈😭😭
(Mon getting to be interested in stuff should be its own trope! Like, even him and his books are such a sweet obsession🙈🙈😍) For a moment there, I thought you wrote "get interested for the first time in another woman" 😂😂😂 Kara would be a murderous, miserable mess if THAT where the case🤦🏻♀️🤦🏻♀️😅😅
Honestly? Thanks to you I can't get Mon being part of the voluntary fire brigarde in his free-time out of my head😂😅🙈🙈 But with the engineering it's be SWEET to see Winn and Mon geeking out together and maybe debating how they could build and programm R2-D2 and an X-Wing?😂🙈 oh, Wait, lol, imagine Mon working for Max (even more for Kara to rant at Mon about)😯
Haha, Yess, HIGH FIVE!😂
Huh, you're right🤔 It DOES kinda sound like sth from Dune🤔🤔 Or Star Wars🤷🏻♀️😂
Yesssss, pleeaaasssee watch it!😍😍 It's just...Like...ARRGGHH, my non-existent heart 😭😍😭😍😭😍😭🙈🙈
Anyway, stay safe and sound and happy Sunday!🤗
XXX
I feel like I should ask. On the other hand I feel like I should not...
Naruto, what?
Institute of the Middle and Far East, Far East speciality. Bascially a bunch of pople loving India, China, Japan and South Korea, wanting to learn about culture and study languages, loving wierd stuff. It's not common in my dearest country to choose this field of studies, so really dedicated and WEIRD people take it. You know, Poland is Catholic country, racist, homophobic, conservative etc. And here you got, 80 people on the first year, being YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAW about everything. I can assure you, the topics we were discussing were sometimes super weird.
Gosh, I miss it. Not the exams, tho xD
....have fun. Don't haunt me if you accidentally invoke some demon and it kills you or when you die after learning how to decline...
Lol, keep me informed!
I'm intrigued, for sure you will nail his character and the whole story. Can't wait to read! :D Also, hope life will treat you well soon. Also, I kind of think it's the first time you used "shit", lol. Life is THIS much annoying, huh? *sends hugs*
Nah, maybe in the future, but I think it's one of the never-written ideas that will stay unwritten.
In one of the canon SG books he went to the museum, so boy, I wish him being intrigued by human culture, histiry etc would have been explored more in the show. And how he could have been a little more like himself in the comic books. Daxam was much more intriguing. Him bieng always allergic to the lead and having to take meds (how many this type of heroes we have?). I love show Mon-El but Chris would have NAILED his more comic book version. Such potential wasted. Sigh
The beauty with Mon is how he fits soooo many roles and is not defined by totally anything. Because being a Legion leader is do... general? While Kara is the REPORTER and new Kardashian and it's super hard to think about her as anything else. What is sad.
But yeaaaaah, Winn and Mon-El exploding shit in DEO would be cute. Do you know Bones? Where Hodgings and the interns (and Zack earlier) were doing experiments and it almost always kicked their asses XD
I don't think we should ever tell LW we wanted to put Mon El and Max at one job.... On the other hand....
Star Wars too, point taken xD
Have a nice erm, Monday's morning? *sad violin music*
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Looking at the ao3 related post I briefly saw yesterday again because there is always an extreme amount of funny drama on any post related to it and meh.
there is so much I don't want to read (or don't want to read from some random fanfiction writer who might just be trying to tiltilate instead of treating sensitive topics with the care and purpose they deserve). but the language of moral outrage in response to fiction on ao3 sounds extremely similiar to the language of moral outrage I grew up with in fundamentalist circles and it so obviously comes from a similar messed up emotional place. Funnily enough it also has a lot of emotional tone in common with deeply online self-described'radfem' types. It's just not the right approach to the discussion. I do think some things would be better off not published, tbqh I do not think something like fiction about real life living minors should be allowed to be made public at all, ever, yes including if written by other minors. It just seems like something with the possibility of being extremely detrimental to real individuals, especially when they don't truly have a Public Persona managed by a team of adults but are a bunch of kids with twitch/youtube channels, essentially. Which does enough harm to them on its own. So.
Intuitively? I'd say something like rpf about living people, adults too, should be handled with extreme care in general (thinking of the disaster that is I Love Dick lol) and probably isn't suitable for ao3 at all (though as ILD shows it's not like you can trust published writers with it either sgeh) BUT then again you know what. I love that there's incredibly bad fiction about major world leaders on AO3. I think it's very funny and great that it's possible so...whatever I'll just admit I don't know where the line should be drawn even just with rpf exactly. I think the fact that you can write disgusting little stories about world leaders is great even if I'm not going to read them.
To use a particularly awful example, I don't think Putin/Trump omegaverse fic is adding anything to the world. But it's very funny and good that it's allowed to exist in all it's disgusting stupid glory. And I just don't think the censorship discussion is one that should be held on the terms set by the people generally doing the accusing now.
There's this widespread tactic of trying to essentially smear anyone who disagrees on what should or should not be allowed in fiction --would be extremely funny if it didn't seem to be effective with teens and older people with about the same amount of life experience/education as teens. It's extremely destructive tho. It more or less kills any meaningful discussion.
OH btw very funny feature from that post--
i saw someone who had an about listed themselves as a 'white 20 year old spaniard' trying the 'racist of the replies bringing up the person running is from mainland china' which is Disgusting, ergo censorship is Right uwuvism approach.
....which was brought up in the original thread by people from China among others, who wondered if her candidacy might be connected to an absolutely wild saga wrt some actor called XZ and the way his fans apparently used the CCP to bring down ao3 in china for what seems like decidedly not the right reasons. i have no idea if any if it is true but absolutely wild. There is apparently drama on weibo about this person's candidacy. It is not racist to bring up possible context for her statements.
It is actually probably a bit racist to ignore concerns and further possible context (as well as what sounded like concpiracy theories ngl some of it was downright batty) from people from china or more familiar with ao3 in china on the basis of their...being from china or interested in it tho have you considered that lol.
Anyway god isn't going to save us from stupidity and I don't think anyone else will either. So many crops are failing and people are being very stupid about that here also, which is probably a bit more relevant in general but far more depressing to think about. 😖
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Shinigami Eyes (I)
Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader
Summary: When you’re paired up with Corpse as imposters in a game of Among Us, you seem to somehow apprehend each others strategies even though it’s the first time you’ve ever played together. He appreciates a good impostor.
Notes: I know I still have many fics I need to finish, but I just wanted to throw out a quick Corpse one because sad to say I’ve been simping for him too. By the way, this is my interpretation of him and this is just for fun. Also, I haven’t written for second person in a while, so I’m sorry if this sucks.
TAG LIST CLOSED!
Shinigami Eyes - Oneshot
“Hey, I wanted to invite Corpse,” Sean said right as the Among Us theme started playing on your computer.
“Great vooooice,” Grease called out.
“Oh, I haven’t played with him before,” you said. It was true, but you’d heard of his legendary voice before and your viewers had been asking for him. You’d only allow it because No Simp September was over. Chat was already going mad.
“You’ll love him. Unless he murders you, because he’s a great imposter,” Sean replies. “He’s too good,” Felix adds.
After a moment, you heard the familiar noise of someone joining the Discord. “Hello everyone,” a deep rumble greeted. The group all said their welcomes, while you introduced yourself. “Very nice to meet you, Corpse,” you added. You didn’t want to comment on the obvious. He must hear it all the time. But you couldn’t deny it was like silk to your ears.
“Nice to meet you to. You make great vids.” A blush spread across your cheeks, “You shouldn’t say things like that, chat is already jealous.” He chuckled.
5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
Impostor
Great, you’re instantly sweating. Thankfully, though, it seems you were lucky enough to have been teamed up with the king of lying himself. Corpse’s name is as bloodred as yours.
You decide to follow him after Toast and Sean, and think about how it was Sean who ironically invited the person who was going to murder him in just a few moments. All four of you were being decontaminated below lab, when Corpse made stepped a tad closer to him. You almost synchronically chopped their heads off, and you squealed in excitement. 2 down, 4 to go. As long as no one would find their bodies for a while, you still had time.
Next thing, you’re out of the South entrance and you’ve split up. You join Sykkuno in electric and just wait on him to do his task. Felix joins you afterwards in the next room. That’s when Toast’s body, and ultimately Sean’s, is reported.
Corpse had run back and self-reported.
“Corpse and I just ran into decontamination and found Sean and Toast,” Rae announced.
You were still muted. “Oh god, he’s playing a dangerous game.”
Sykkuno decided it would be the perfect time to call you out. “You and Felix only joined me a while later and decided to stay. Kinda sus of you.”
“No, she was with me at the beginning. I watched her do a task in office,” your fellow impostor vouched. They’d been right, he’s a damn good liar. He manages to hide any sliver of emotion in that deep baritone.
“I don’t trust Corpse anymore, he does stuff like this all the time when he’s impostor,” Lily noted.
“Stuff like what?” He huffed in amusement.
The group agreed the accusation made was a bit vague, and it had affectively directed the attention away from you and onto Felix. After another round of some serious investigating and threatening you all decided to skip.
“Corpse makes me feel less nervous about being an impostor,” you tell chat, “He seems so chill about it.” You ran down to Weapons, but decided against killing anyone when you found three people doing tasks there. You shoved yourself into the clump of bodies and waited until everyone had finished. Running back up to centre with both Lily and Rae, you felt restless that you would eventually have to kill one of them. You just hoped they wouldn’t take it personally.
Corpse ran past, alone. Your characters didn’t have eyes, but somehow they showed a mutual understanding. He killed Lily, you killed Rae. You sputtered and chortled and followed right on after him down into the venthole. He met you in the bathroom stall. “Cosy,” you joked. Until Grease walked in. “Oh, that’s awkward.” You realized you were still standing suspiciously over the venthole. “Shit.”
You didn’t know where Grease had gone, but your first instinct was to hit the red emergency meeting button in the Office. “Grease was in the bathroom stall hovering over a vent.” You may not have your fellow impostors emotionless tone, but you knew laughing through your accusation usually worked.
“Are you kidding me?! I just saw you and Corpse standing in there doing I don’t know what!” Grease yelled.
“That’s a bold statement. You know I’d never cheat on Sykkuno,” Corpse said. “Wait, what?” the man in question replied. Corpse ignored him.
“Corpse was with me when I found you there. On another note I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people vent at the same time before.” Two truths, technically.
“Alright, I’m voting Grease,” Felix said, “I’m sensing liar voice.”
Sykkuno suspected Grease and you, but promised he’d vote you out after if he was wrong. “We have to vote now,” you reminded them.
Grease was ejected.
You met Corpse again in laboratory, where only Felix was doing a task. No one moved. “Oh no, you may have the honours,” you gracefully called out to an unsuspecting impostor. He seemed to get the message through however, and swiftly killed Felix when the Kill button was set to press again.
Defeat.
“Oh my god, that was so stressful,” you cried out. Corpse chuckled, “Don’t worry, you did great.”
“Hey, don’t you dare steal him,” Sean threatened, “He’s my impostor mate!” You laughed.
“You murdered me and Lily almost synchronically,” Rae sputtered, to which Sean added, “Oh my god, same here. It was some nasty psychic shit.” “Corpse and I just have the Shinigami eyes,” you explained. You saw Corpse’s name flash in the top left corner, but only heard him exhale in amusement. It was cute.
5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
Impostor
“Oh… my… god.” Has this ever happened before in this game? Either way, no one will suspect both of you to be it again. You imagine he was feeling similarly, as he hadn’t moved from the spawn point yet. “How in the fuck…?” Chat was confused, but seemed to enjoy the spectacle.
You and corpse split up this time. Don’t use the same tactics twice.
You followed Felix and Sykkuno into Office and faked a task. They decided to wait for you, and you kept your eyes on the green bar until it moved. You travelled trough Admin and Decontamination until you met up with Lily in Labs. “Shit,” you murmured, “There’s too many people. I’m gonna look suspicious.”
Corpse showed up. Lily and Sykkuno left. You killed Felix. Toast walked in, and unfortunately at the hands of your teammate, he did become toast.
You ran in a circle around him and hoped it was enough of a hint for him to follow you. He picked up on it and followed you into the bathroom stall. But neither of you vented. You let a smile slip, almost forgetting you had a face cam. Awkwardly clearing your throat, you explained to your viewers in a very non-convincing way this was just a good impostor strategy. They’d do well to learn from it.
The bodies were reported instantly, and you cursed under your breath. Lily was the one who reported it. “So, I found Felix in Labs and there were only two other people in there before me and Sykkuno left.”
“I went down through Decontamination,” you explained, “I lost Corpse back at Labs.”
“I went back North, I passed you on the way there, Lily.”
Lily was sus of you. “What? Why?!” You asked. “Because I didn’t see anyone in Decontamination and there’s no way you could’ve gone through there that quickly. I wasn’t gone that long,” she said.
Well, shit. “Weren’t the lights off? You couldn’t possibly see me in Decontamination. I’m wondering why you walked back into Labs anyway, Lily.”
A series of ‘ooh’s were heard through the Discord call.
“But I was running up that hallway, I didn’t see you come out,” Grease suddenly spoke up.
“Why were you in there, Grease?” Corpse asked, but you knew it was already too late.
“I was running up to do my task in Labs. I didn’t see her come through the doors before the body was reported.”
“I wasn’t out of Decontamination yet,” you ground out. It was of no use, however. More than half of the people left voted you out, including Lily, Grease, Sean and Corpse, since he had an image to maintain as fake crewmember.
HeartEyes was ejected.
You decided, both out of your own interest and for content’s sake, to follow Corpse as a ghost. He seemed to be having the same trouble as you, suddenly being surrounded by a group of people. “That’s rough. He’s gonna have to kill five more people.”
That was when he bravely decided to take action. Sabotage the reactor, follow everyone there, jump into the lump of people trying to fix the problem and kill so no one would know who did it. He self-reported it in the blink of an eye.
The group was indeed confused, to say the least. Grease had died. “Wait, who was the last to come in?” Sean asked. “It was me,” Corpse admitted, “But I did the handprint scan because no one else was doing it. Weren’t you standing there doing that with Lily?” “Yeah, I had to wait because it wasn’t working.”
“What?!” Lily exclaimed, in only a way she could, “I was doing the scan! It was Sean, then!” The two suspects were starting a heavy discussion, whilst your eyes were trained on the red of Corpse’s name.
The group decided to vote out Lily, as she was the one to report the last murder.
“Is he just… Killing the people who voted for me?” you muttered. Shaking your head, you continued, “Nah, it has to be coincidence.”
But then a body was found, and Corpse said he suspected Sean again. Was he actually working down the list? “Is he avenging me? That’s so sweet, no one has ever done that for me before…” Just a video game, you had to remind yourself. It was just a video game you were playing with friends. And a man with a very nice voice who’d just murdered everyone who did you wrong. Just a game, yes.
Turns out, Corpse really knew how to put his voice to use, as Sean was ejected. He managed to kill Sykkuno and Dave after that, and the game was won by the imposters.
“AGAIN?!” Felix yelled, “How did you two get teamed up again?!” “That’s bullshit,” Sean laughed.
You smiled, as Corpse said, “Us Shinigami’s have to stick together.” It made you blush. “Thanks for avenging me, Corpse. That was very sweet of you.” He chuckled, “Any time. I don’t mind killing people when I have a good teammate.”
“Hey! I’m still here too, you know!” Sean yelled upset.
“It was really fun playing with you guys,” you said, stretching your arms. You’d already been streaming for three hours, it was time to go. Everyone said goodbye, but you didn’t hear Corpse. And you wished it hadn’t twisted your stomach in the way it did.
You wished your viewers a nice day, and promised to update them on Twitter when you’d be streaming next. You were done for the day.
Yet, as you’d closed all tabs and were about to close Discord, you got a call. It was private, and it was from Corpse.
“Hey, miss me already?” you jokingly said.
He chuckled quietly. He suddenly seemed a lot shyer now, being extracted from the group. “Nice game.”
“Yeah, you really know how to keep your emotions hidden. I was impressed, to say the least.”
“You were really good, too. I can appreciate a good imposter.”
You bit your lip. “Hm, I hope to see some more of that appreciation in the future. It was rather nice having someone avenge me.”
“I’d do it again any time. Hiding in the toilet was a good strategy, by the way.”
You snorted at that, “Not good enough, it seems. They voted me out.”
“Big mistake. Nobody kills my teammate.”
“Aww, did the Shinigami catch feelings for the human?”
He rumbled, “I thought you weren’t human?”
You didn’t comment on the fact that he’d failed to answer the original suggestion you’d made. “Touché.”
It was quiet for a moment, and you wondered if you’d crossed a line there and made the wrong assumptions about where the conversation was going. You quickly added, “Are you playing again this week?”
“Yeah, Sean said they’d stream again this Thursday.”
“I suppose I’ll see you there, then.”
He hummed. You sensed there was more to it, though. He hadn’t made any indication he wanted to end the call yet. But then he finally said, “I hope we get teamed up again. So you can get your own revenge.”
“I hope so too.”
***
Might do a follow up to this oneshot, if anyone asks for it. Will definitely create more for Corpse, he’s a lot of fun to write.
#Corpse Husband#Corpse#Corpse x reader#corpse husband x reader#jacksepticeye#pewdiepie#youtube fanfiction
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earned it [02]
Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.
cw. mentions of murder, suggestive content, unedited fic
notes. err, i’m only doing this on impulse. i would like to continue it, but i think part one stands enough for itself :> i might delete this if i don’t like it a few days later lollll
series masterlist
Your infamous customer hadn’t arrived even as the restaurant closed. You watched close enough, fidgety in your movements and often bumping into other servers, all because your gaze kept darting back to the front door, awaiting his presence.
There’s no actual reason why you want to see him. Maybe it’s because he left an impression? The guy didn’t even budge after finding out someone had snuck into the kitchen to poison him, leaving you to wonder why anyone wanted to kill him. Not that it was any of your business, but you figured it was only common between powerful people who are equally greedy. Still, you’re unfocussed in your work, apologizing every now and then when your boss shook their head at you.
Thankfully, you managed to get back to your old pace. Thoughts of the white-haired tall man left the room at the same time everyone did, leaving only you and your boss in the locker room. You ended up working two shifts again on this weekend, your co-worker asking you to cover for them due to sudden family issues.
It’s tiring, that much is for sure, but you won’t complain when it’s more money down in your pocket. You’re dazzled, however, as you leave the locker room and see that your main chefs are still there.
Upon seeing you, they immediately usher you into a lone table, table 98 that remained untouched the whole night, a two lit candles illuminating the otherwise darkness of the isolated restaurant. Only this time, it’s occupied by him no less, his azure eyes flittering up to yours at the sound of your hesitant footsteps.
You’ve been looking for him the whole night, yet now that he’s in front of you, you don’t have any words to say. Instead, you bow down deep, the hands clasped in your lap shaking.
“S-Sir.”
“No need to be so nervous. I only wish to discuss something with you,” his laugh is so carefree, lighthearted as he gestures to the empty spot across him. “Take a seat,” Wordlessly, you foolow his orders and dash down to the seat, spine straight and head held high. There’s a hint of amusement in his small smile, but he doesn’t tease you, save for the lilting tone he held. “So you’re in sophomore year of university?”
“Yes, Sir. How’d you know?” You furrowed your brows, unsure of whether you’re supposed to expensive meal served in two.
Gosh, and this was on page three too, a single meal cost at least six months’ worth of rent.
“I pulled a string or two,” he lifts one shoulder lazily, waving his knife in the air. “And please, call me Satoru. Assuming we come to an understanding, things will go well for the both of us. You are in need of financial aid, yes?” You nod, utterly clueless in where this is leading, but Satoru’s already made up his mind long before he came here that he found no need in beating around the bush.
“Good. Then what do you say about being my sugar baby?”
“S-sugar baby?” you repeat the word first in confusion, then with distaste. He simply hums around the meat he’s eating, as if it’s a normal occurrence for him to inquire such things, and you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest.
You don’t care that this guy is your precious customer – he was just the same as everyone else.
“Is that the reason why you asked me to stay behind? Do you think you can just pay people to sleep with you? It may have worked on others, but not to me. I would rather keep my dignity than be with you,” you breathe hard after your rant, slapping your palms down on the table. The impact of it makes the table shake, his hand reflexively reaching to steady his wine glass. “As for what happened yesterday, you don’t have to thank me about it. I did what any right-minded person would.”
“And if I said I never wanted to be saved?” he asks, his tone still so calm that it further infuriates you. You stare at him, stunned and mouth gaping. “Sit down. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Thank you for graciousness, Sir, but I really don’t—”
“Angel,” You freeze at the nickname. He chuckles with his forehead pressed to his clasped hands, “Do you really think I need to pay people to sleep with me? I could have anyone I want,” his voice falls an octave or two, the sonorous warning rumbling something…alien inside your body. You stand there, unable to move, and he easily sees through this as he hides a smirk behind his drink. “Sit down. I’m not done talking to you.”
You don’t know what snapped in you to actually follow, but his words weren’t just that. They were always laced with eased dominance, the words leaving his lips coming out as a command. No, it was more like a hypnotizing order, and you’re nothing but a puppet enslaved by it.
His smile only grows bigger, and you hate that he looks ridiculously handsome under the dim lights of the room. Life would’ve been much easier if this man had been ugly.
“As I was saying, this relationship should be casual, no strings attached. I’d prefer if you’re exclusive to me, and in return, I’ll cover all your school fees and everything else. As for the sex,” he cuts his eyes straight to yours, an intense burning heat in them. You squirm in your seat, a little intimidated, albeit excited, by this proposition too, though you’d rather die than let him know that, “I don’t need that from you. I just want someone to talk to.”
“You’re paying me to talk to you?”
“No,” he chuckles, “I’m saying you form a relationship with me in exchange of financial aid. You’d be similar to a lover, nothing less of a friend,” he stares at his drink so hard like he was having a debate with it. A few seconds later, he found his answer, the gleam in his eyes surreptitious as he says, “Someone I can trust.”
You huff. Surely it wasn’t easy as that. “Why me?”
“No reason,” he shrugged, “I just find you endearing, that is all,” You lean back on your seat, trying to process all this. The hesitance must be written all over your face because he adjusts his tie, sliding a white business card your way before sliding his chair back in. At least he’s well-mannered enough to do that. “You can take your time to think about it. There’s no need to rush.”
Somehow, seeing his figure retreat triggers something within you. You watch as silhouettes emerge from the darkness trail after him; must be his security team, serving as an additional note that what you so struggled to achieve was likely nothing for him.
Was it fear? Desperation? Shame?
You don’t know, you won’t ever really know, but you run up to him anyway, brave enough to tug at his sleeve. The guards surrounding him tense up at the contact, stepping away only when he raises a finger that spoke a thousand words.
“You-you’ll pay for everything?”
With his back turned to you, you failed to see that victorious grin he wore. “And everything more,” he reassured. He turns around to confirm your submission, but you’re quivering under his towering frame, poor hands clutched around the card so tightly he won’t be surprised if you break it. He chuckles, coaxing the worries out of you as he caresses your cheek, his breath evident of expensive liquor hitting your cheeks. “Relax, angel. It’s not like you’re selling your soul to the devil.”
Your pupils blow wide at the close proximity. If he was attractive before, it’s nothing compared to the clarity of his sharp, angular features that are softened by his playful smile. Oddly enough, his thumb caressing your cheeks is tender yet calloused.
There’s no telling when who put who under a spell, because you’re clutching helplessly at his suit jacket, whispering, “Am I not?”
You are, he wants to say, but you’re so innocent, so vulnerable – such an angel, he can’t help but hum in his head – that he doesn’t have the heart to let you know. He already knew things were bound to fall out of place one another, but until that hasn’t happened yet, he’ll have to keep you close. He’ll make you his.
“I’ll take good care of you,” he declares so confidently that you couldn’t even question his capability to do so you, and for a moment, just a moment, your knees weaken under his stare. “Now that, I can promise.”
Should you have pulled away then? When he leaned down to seal the contract with a kiss, should you have pulled away then? Or better yet, could you even pull away then?
You’ve been so alone your whole life that each moment with him is awakening, soul-crushing, mind-shattering and so damn weakening that you should’ve pulled away then. If anyone were to tell you you’d share your first kiss after work hours with a man whose name you don’t even know of, you’d tell them they were crazy, crazier if they claimed you would enjoy it.
But you did. Oh, you did, you were addicted to him – his taste, his scent, his touch, everything about him – that when he pulled away, taking away every last breath in your lung that formerly remained taint-free by him, you’re left wanting. Craving.
And he knows this. How could he not? Your eyes are hazy with lust, chest pressed against his firm ones that would soon be the same body you found home over and over again. You’re not the only left intoxicated from this sudden agreement. Whatever you feel, he feels it twice as much after years of watching you from the sidelines, asking himself a million times over what it is about you that pulled him in so much in the first place.
The innocence? The dedication? The youthful naivety?
Gojo wants to laugh at himself. It was never any of those – he simply wanted to fool himself that maybe he’s worthy of this, of your love, of your purity. He’s selfish, manipulative, heartless, and he wants nothing more than someone like you to make him feel like he’s everything he’s not.
He steps forward to brush his nose against yours; breathing in the tiny gasps you reward him with. And he’s barely even touched you.
“I look forward to our next meeting,” he rasps, butterfly touches all the way down your back to hold you flush against him, letting you feel that he’s all muscle and hardness, while you’re the complete opposite, composed of softness and little ghosting kisses. Perhaps when he gives you by a name, he was right to call you – “My Angel.”
The loud blaring of your alarm cuts through the silence of the room, its shrill sound piercing your ears. You groan, blindly patting the bedside table to swipe snooze. The spot next to you has been cold for a while now, but it’s normal for Satoru to leave early for work that you burrow yourself deeper in the covers. Five more minutes of sleep shouldn’t be so bad; it’s the weekend, anyway. You’ve got nothing else to do.
Waking up after that, on the other hand, now that is an impending task on itself.
You’re beyond sore, your inner thighs littered with handprints and your shoulder covered in love bites. “Jeez,” you mutter to yourself, stepping out of the bathroom. Tying your robe around you, you go out your shared bedroom, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out.
It’s past noon already – Satoru really wore you out. And fuck, you could barely walk. You had to grip the counters just to sit on the stools, and even then, you’re wincing from the pain.
He should be doing paperwork in his office right now or something; he never really told you what to do. You don’t feel like asking either since he’s made it clear he prefers to keep his personal life, well…personal. But nevertheless, you swing your legs back and forth on the stool, texting him a quick I love you baby :)
Satoru doesn’t reply.
Usually, he’d respond in a few minutes, always supplied with a wink and an eggplant emoji. It was so him to act this way, that when those few minutes turned into a few hours and you’re met with radio silence, you can’t help but worry.
You try to brush it off, ignoring the deafening silence that rings all over his penthouse. He’s busy, he’s working, he’s got things to do – that’s all it is.
You convince yourself hard enough that you’ve cleaned the place until it’s sparkling, your reflection bouncing off the black marble floors. Every minute, though, your mind would race back to him. Not thinking about him proved to be a really daunting task because you think of him when you’re eating, reminiscing the way he’d always surprise you with a back hug, muttering morning angel all over your skin just to distract you from your meal. You think of him as you’re killing time with boring dramas; if he was here, he’d nudge your leg with his foot, pushing your shorts until it exposes your panties. He’d make sure you don’t get to focus at all, riling you up and kissing you hard that the show playing becomes nothing but background noise. You think of him, you dream of him, you remember him – and yet, you can’t feel him.
Nails bitten down to the skin, you scramble for your phone, swiping call over his contact. It doesn’t go through. Now that’s another odd thing; Satoru never fails to pick up your calls.
“He’s just busy,” you lie to yourself, telling the same thing over and over again even as night falls and you’re staring at the empty left side of the bed, hands smoothing over where the curve of his body would’ve been. “He’s just busy,” you say once more, giving into the exhaustion brought on by your worries. “He’ll come home soon. He always will.”
Except he didn’t.
And that was two weeks ago.
“Angel, I got you—” Satoru immediately clamps his shut, his footsteps muted as he walks closer to you. You’ve been dating for a few months now, and you’re still very wary of the nature of your relationship so you refuse to move in with him. He doesn’t mind, he respects your space and decisions, but now he’s starting to regret letting you have your way. You’re hunched over your swiveling chair, cheek pressed against the opened textbook and glasses perched on your hair. The lamp desk illuminates the dark circles lining your eyes, his heart breaking at the sight.
Thanks to his help, you’ve been able to spend more time focusing on your studies. It should be comforting, but Satoru’s heart aches as he thinks of what you’ve been like prior to meeting him.
How long have you stayed up all night just to pass your exams? How long have you cried yourself to sleep, unable to handle the burden placed by the world on your shoulders at such a young age? How long have you had to turn down friends’ invites to parties with a forced smile because you had to go to work? How many times have you stared at a failing mark, teeth clenched because you studied well for it; your exhaustion just got the best of you and muddled your brain?
Satoru places the beer and dinner he’s got you on his way back home on top of your one-man dining table, pressing a kiss at the top of your head. You look so beautiful this way – unaware, unknowing, and focused in nothing but the future ahead of you that you don’t bother yourself with his past.
Perhaps…it was comforting, after all.
He’d rather have you worry over your own studies than worry about him. Satoru can’t stomach the idea of you – his precious angel – being involved in his own shit, possibly get caught between the crossfire. It pains him to say it, but he doesn’t want you getting too close for comfort.
So he stays there by your side, simply because it would expel all ideas of you wanting to be beside him. He’ll be right where you’re safe, and the sigh that leaves your lips when he moves you to your bed, fitting in his long, lanky bed on your cramped mattress an immense struggle. As if feeling that you’re finally home, you snuggle closer to his chest, murmuring sweet nothings that tug at his heartstrings.
Satoru rubs circles at your back, staring so hard at the chipped paint on your wall that he’s sure he’s got it burned in his memory.
Now that he thinks about it, he should’ve been satisfied with that. He should’ve held back in his desire to have more of you. He should’ve just tucked you in and left, but he was never really in control of himself. Before he knew it, he’s pulled in by you too much, encouraging him to move in with you under the lie it’s easier to keep an eye on you.
Had he just left you earlier…would things have been different then?
He’s asked himself this question too many times. Satoru always came to one conclusion. He loved you way too much that it consumed him, and soon the love he held for you slowly burned you inch by inch. The only way to save you was to pull away – but he wasn’t ready for that yet, not now – but he’s too scared, too deep in love that he ignores the warning signals and holds you close instead, finding comfort in the warmth of your arms.
Fuck. Satoru downs his second drink, glaring at everyone beneath his shades. Geto snickers beside him, sending side eyes to his boss every now and then just to check. Of course, Satoru’s not actually going to pass out, he was no lightweight, but he’d been uneasy every since that pretentious gold envelope landed on his desk.
One of the downsides of being a mafia leader meant you had to mingle with other clan shit, including him of all people. There were always new leaders popping out of nowhere, Satoru quote unquoting, criminals be spawning like maniacs.
For fourteen years – fourteen fucking years – his clan had been in bad blood with the Zen’ins. They were pretty new in the illegal side of business, starting off as a powerful name in the trade industry before they got interested in oil. One thing led to another, the family began to realize they could have so much more if they turned a blind eye to a law or to, soon shifting into illegal weaponry trade, human trafficking, then drug manufacturing.
These bastards had the audacity to insult the Gojo Clan when Satoru’s family dropped by to strike a contract out of curiosity to their goods, only to be turned down because they’re ‘barbaric’ and ‘informal.’
Satoru still remembers that humiliating moment of being escorted out by bodyguards, but he held his head high, vowing to show that bastard Zen’in guy that the Gojo’s were one of the powerhouses for a reason. He doesn’t even know where the elderly guy got his confidence from. Mafia business was not the same as their former expertise, yet they acted all high and mighty with their rules and standard of being sophisticated even in a life or death situation.
Gojo doesn’t know whether he should be happy or sad that the old man died, his son taking over just as soon as his father perished. He would’ve celebrated with a whiskey or two, except the new clan leader was quite adamant in cleaning up their name to prove he would not create the same mistake his father did.
The new leader threw a large cruise party, inviting pretty much everyone they were chummy with, and Satoru has never felt more out of place. He recognized a face or two, but he couldn’t really give a fuck. He hated events like this – it was all about establishing power and face.
Satoru groaned under his breath, swiping at another flute as a waiter passed by. He felt the bubbles fizzle down his throat, the slight burning sensation somewhat easing his nerves.
He leans back at the wall and checks his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. It’s been two fucking hours since they arrived, and the host still hadn’t arrived. If they planned on being ‘fashionably late’ Satoru won’t hesitate to slice someone’s neck tonight. He hates his time being wasted the most, and his eyes slid over to his friend’s still posture, looking like he just saw a ghost.
“Suguru,” he sighs through his mouth, “Don’t be so tense. This is a formal event – no blood will be shed tonight.” Suguru had a weird skill of being able to read Satoru’s thoughts that he raised his hands in surrender, silently promising that he’s not going to kill anyone.
“You’re not sure of that.”
“I won’t lose my composure, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he rolls his eyes, not looking back as he effortlessly places the empty glass back to another waiter. Satoru stands next to his friend, sucking his teeth out of boredom. Suguru, on the other hand, is tenser than ever, his eyes locked onto something in the middle of the crowd that began to cheer.
Faintly, somewhere at the back of his mind, Satoru hears someone whistle in signal. A few seconds later, the fireworks are lit and decorate the night sky, bursts of gold and beauty accompanying the entrance of the woman who’s so effortlessly caught everyone’s eye tonight.
Satoru is rooted to his spot, taking off his glasses the same time the crowd parts. Then, his breath is knocked away from his body, his heart pumping so hard he actually struggled to breathe.
Because you’re there, smiling and waving at the crowd as if it’s second nature to you. Seven years of being apart from one another and Satoru is still bewitched each time he lays his eyes on you. You’re the same…from your face down to the angelic feeling you always carried, but at the same time, you’re different. Gone was his precious angel who shied away from too much attention, his precious angel who would’ve never worn such a bodacious ring embedded on her left ring finger. Your smile is more charismatic, confident, and even fierce compared to the small, private ones you always shared with him – he almost couldn’t recognize you.
As if feeling someone’s eyes on you, you spot him leaning languidly against the walls, those lips you used to kiss turned downwards.
Seven years ago, you would’ve kissed him until he smiles again, singing to your pouty and clingy boyfriend who never voiced out the reason of his troubles. Seven years ago, he would’ve carried you and swung you around, showering you with affection as he reminds you how lucky he is to have you.
But this was no longer the past – that much is clear from when he left you without another word.
Still, you smile at him, an empty one that showed nothing but concealed anger. He was sure though, so fucking sure, that for a split second, he saw you light up. That may have been seven years ago, but you loved each other to the point of insanity – surely you still held some sort of fondness of him.
Satoru takes long, self-assured stride towards you, his gaze never leaving yours with his hands tucked into his pockets. There’s no telling what he’ll do, but in his mind, it’s clear.
You still love him, he still loves you. He’ll do something about it. It doesn’t matter what, he just will. That was until a young man closer to your age with blond hair and pierced earrings, narrow feline eyes lined with eyeliner hobbles beside you, his weight supported by a cane that Satoru stops in his movements.
He’d recognize that face anywhere.
The youngest and perhaps most mischievous leader of them all, Naoya Zen’in. Albeit not as hard-headed as his father in comparison with his rather laid-back and welcoming nature, Satoru knows a monster when he sees it. It takes one to know one, after all, and despite the heir being crippled from a former accident, his intelligence and power was not to be overlooked through his appearance and coy smiles.
In fact, he might even be more dangerous than his old man, this theory only proven when his arms snake around your waist. The matching rings gleam from under the light, and you press yourself closer to him to whisper in his ear, your attention very much still on Satoru.
Satoru’s entire body burns.
“Still there, Sir?” Suguru asks, gripping his boss’ bicep to hold him back. Smart of him, Satoru exhales through his nose, unable to stop his glare from darting to your husband’s.
He’s heard of you, of him, of how his most annoying rival had a phenomenal trophy wife who looked harmless at first look, but was actually the brains of most of his operations. Satoru forgets how to breathe normally because he’s heard of you, and the rumors he’s gotten wind of about Naoya’s trophy wife are nothing less of how dedicated and perfect the two of you are.
Slapping Suguru’s arm away from him, Satoru grits his teeth. “Get me a drink.”
His precious angel was gone. No, this woman that stood before him…you were an entirely different entity, something darker, something along the lines that were more like him.
What exactly happened the day he left you?
taglist: @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head tagging the ones who asked for part 2, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo-satoru-x-reader#gojo x reader angst#gojo x reader romance#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines#gojo satoru x reader imagines#gojo x reader imagines#jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen romance#jujutsu kaisen angst#gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru romance#gojo satoru angst
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Could I please get a Tommy fic where he's not the one who's possessed (idk who instead) but anyway him and the reader both make it onto the bus but like not without a struggle and maybe the reader gets injured, not life threatening but bad, and he comforts them as they drive away. And maybe this injury also elicits a confession from them like they knew each other before and are friends but they both like each other but won't say it. Confession could be words or just an abrupt kiss or mix of both. Anyway they're both camp councillors and borderline flirt with each other all the time. Thanks!
OH HO HO MOTOR IS RUNNING
I Thought I Lost You For a Sec (Tommy Slater x Reader)
Warnings: angst, murder/blood/violence/gore, major and minor character death, attempted murder, major character injury, Arnie was chosen!au, kissing, confessions, applying first aid written badly, Alice dies (i’m so sorry queen), Arnie dies (sorry king)
Word Count: 1.9k
"How much Tylenol did you take, asshole?" Alice asked, stepping closer to her boyfriend. She'd been looking around the shelves, busying herself while the three of you explored on. Arnie wasn't feeling well, apparently. He'd just sat on the bench, and closed his eyes.
You, Tommy and Cindy had gone into the room with all the creepy witch shit, and your flashlight shined on Arnie's name carved into the wall.
"That isn't funny. Alice will freak." Cindy said, looking to you. As if you'd carved into solid stone with your fingernails. And, really, this wasn't how you'd prank your friends. You'd known them all for forever, holding them all together like one single piece of string as they grew apart. You and Tommy glanced at eachother, and then you gave her a small shake of your head.
"I didn't do it." You told her. Tommy had been standing right besides you as Cindy looked at the books, found that the cave went deeper. The three of you looked towards the entrance to the room, your heart sinking.
Alice stepped right in front of Arnie, snapping in his face to try to get his attention. She even shook his shoulders, saying,
"Earth to Arnie. Earth to Arnie." Before she walked away with a sigh. She wanted to get out of there. This witch hunt had been a deadend, and now she was stuck babysitting. She looked over her shoulder when she saw her boyfriend get up, and head towards the wall. She watched him pick something up, and she asked, "Arnie? What the hell are you doing?"
Your flashlights shined in the dark, shined the curly, brown haired figure holding an axe. Tommy was behind you, but you and Cindy had gone through the tunnel first. And, before any of you could tell Alice to step back, to run across the room to where it was safe, you all watched as Arnie swung his axe into her head. You and Cindy screamed as you watched him split her head open, but Tommy was grabbing you both by the shoulders and saying,
"Shit, go! C'mon!" Before Arnie was even done. He pushed you guys through the hole, following you both back into the room. The three of you looked around, trying to find an exit, when Cindy looked at the altar. She ran over, trying to tip it, before she yelled,
"Tommy, help me!" And Tommy was right behind her. He helped her knock it over, all of the books and candles landing with a crash. Tommy grabbed you by the arm, yanking you forward and making you go first through the hole as Cindy yelled,
"Go, go, go!" You ducked down and crawled as fast as you could, Cindy pushing you to make you go faster. Just as you reached the end of the short tunnel, you heard Tommy yell. You turned and you saw that Arnie had followed you. And had grabbed Tommy's ankle. You screamed,
"Tommy!" And you watched as Cindy turned to try to grab his shoulders, and you scrambled to help. You watched as he was yanked back, quickly moving to lie flat and try to kick the brunette away. He kicked him once, twice, before he finally kicked him against the cave wall, and the pair of you dragged Tommy out before the cave could close around him.
You clamoured out, nearly falling as the rocks fell behind you. You could feel tears burning your eyes, from either the events of what had just happened or the dust that fell when the cave finally closed. Cindy sobbed, and you reached to grab onto the boy besides you. You held onto his arm, burying your face into his coat. Tommy held you close, smoothing his hand down your back before he paused and asked,
"Do you hear that?" He asked, and the three of you listened. It was a slow steady breathing, loud in the silence of the cave. Finally, Cindy asked,
"He's still alive?" And you ran a head over your face. You tried to keep it together, tried to keep yourself calm as you quickly said,
"He- He can't get us. He can't get us." You said, and leaned back into the warmth of the boy besides you. "He can't get us." You repeated one more time, like a mantra to yourself. You closed your eyes, trying not to cry as you buried your face into the shoulder of his coat.
***
"Tommy, take them to the bus and Ziggy and I will-" Cindy had started to say her plan. She'd gotten herself a shovel and Ziggy a trowel. The four of you had been discussing the witch, how you were finally going to break the curse. You'd each gone through hell, with Ziggy nearly being killed by Arnie, Cindy having to kill Arnie, Tommy nearly being crushed in the cave in, and you breaking your leg in the cave below, making Tommy have to carry you everywhere you went. But, you'd found the hand. Both you and Tommy's noses had started to bleed when you sat in the moss, and it only took a quick passage reading from Tommy for you to realize where you were sitting. The two of you had dug and ripped up the moss, before you finally found the skeleton hand of one Sarah Fier.
"What?" You yelled, staring in disbelief at her. You couldn't believe she was side-lining you. You looked to her sister, and then to Tommy. He grimaced, rubbing the back of his head. You scoffed. "So, that's it? Tommy and I find the hand and we don't even get to see it through?" You asked, and Cindy gave you a look. You knew that wasn't just it. She said your name quietly, her tone even as she said,
"You can't walk. Tommy- Tommy had to carry you here. And you need to get to a hospital." She said, and you frowned. You knew she was right. You knew that, perhaps, you were being a little unreasonable. That it would be even more unreasonable to make Tommy carry you all the way to the Sarah Fier tree. But it sucked. And, plus, you felt stronger with all of you together, even if Arnie laid in a heap in the kitchen. Even if there wasn't an axe murderer chasing after you now. Tommy reached over and gave your hand a squeeze, and you looked away. It was hard to say no to them, especially when Tommy was looking at you like that. He said a soft,
"It's okay. It's basically already over anyways. We just get to go home sooner." He said, and you couldn't deny that getting to see your bed, most likely a hospital bed first though, was compelling. And, well, you supposed you'd be alright if Tommy was the one coming with you. Sighing, you said,
"Fine. Fine." And you gave a defeated gesture. "But, you better not take all the credit when you talk to the papers." You said, cracking a half-attempt at joke. Cindy and Ziggy smiled, and Tommy gave your hand another squeeze. And, really, that was all you needed to make you feel better.
***
Tommy had chased down the last bus, yelling,
"Wait, wait!" As it started to drive off. It came to a screeching stop, and it's doors hesitated before they opened. Tommy had been carrying you bridal-style, so he had to turn sideways as he stepped onto the bus. "Thank you, thank you." He told the bus driver as he carried you on. He panted, and you would've felt bad if you weren't gritting your teeth in pain.
Running had led to jostling your leg, and every step Tommy had taken had felt like a searing hot-iron pressed to your skin. You were gripping his jacket tight, trying to get a grip on yourself. It wasn't like you could've told Tommy to slow down, otherwise you would've missed the bus.
Tommy grabbed the front seat, one that was quickly evicted by its previous taker the second they saw your leg. You tried not to let out a curse as Tommy sat down, your grip on his collar so tight that your knuckles were turning white. Instead you let out a pained noise as you buried your face into his neck, moving to grip his shoulder instead. Tommy rubbed a hand down your back, doing his best to help you rest your leg and to ease your pain. You grit your teeth when the bus started moving, already hating the ride. Softly, he said,
"In hindsight, maybe I should've grabbed the Tylenol." And you let out a pained, half-laugh. You slapped his chest lightly, telling him.
"Don't make me laugh. It hurts." And he chuckled in response. Then, his hand was brushing your thigh. Tommy had been the one to wrap the makeshift bandages around your wound. He'd used the end of his sweatshirt, and had made a makeshift crop-top of it. He checked it gently, made sure it was secure, and turned around to ask,
"Can someone pass me the first aid kit please?" And the counselor across from you went to get it. They passed it to you, and he opened it. It was full of Band-Aids and Neosporin, and the only thing helpful was the clean bandages. You watched him as he untied them, and you winced as he pulled them off. As gently as he could, he wrapped clean ones around your leg. He said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Every time you even made a face. Once he was done, he brushed a hand over your face, tilting your head to look up at him. You did, glancing over his features.
Tommy was one of your oldest friends, and, well, part of you had always liked him. He was sweet, caring, kind, and maybe you spent most of the summer flirting with him. He'd proven that he was all of those things and more tonight. He'd stuck by you in the cave, carried you up the hole, and got you on the bus before it left. He cared for you in a way that made your heart skip a beat, and, as you stared up at him, you couldn't imagine how you would've gotten through this night without him.
"Y'know, when you first fell- well, I thought I lost you for a sec. It scared the hell out of me and, the entire night, all I could think about was making sure you were safe and-" And you didn't let him finish. His words were too sweet. He was too sweet. You couldn't stand it anymore and you reached up to cup his neck, pulling him in by it and pressing your lips against his. He seemed surprised for a moment, but he was quick to kiss back. He cupped your cheek, holding you close and stealing your breath away. His kiss was slow and soft, addicting in the way you could barely think about anything else. And, for a moment, you didn't feel an ounce of pain.
When you pulled back, the two of you were silent for a beat. Before Tommy softly chuckled.
"Well, if I had known running away from an axe murderer was the way to get you to kiss me, I would've-" And you cut him off again, pulling him in for another round of kisses.
#fear street#fear street 1978#fear street tommy slater#tommy slater fear street#fear street tommy#tommy fear street#tommy slater#tommy slater x reader#thomas slater x reader#thomas slater
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corpse husband x fem!reader
summary: you meet corpse on a stream and you’re surprised when he reaches out to you
warnings: cursing, mentions of tattooing
word count: 1.9k
notes: This is proof read but could have missed some stuff. This is my first corpse fic and my first time writing fanfic since I posted that super cringey book on wattpad when I was like 12 or something. I’d appreciate feed back so please reach out to me :)
main blog @itsmysleepover
read part 2 here!
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
You were cleaning up your station so you can get home and stream. You loved your day job as a tattoo artist but you also really enjoyed streaming. It started as a way to promote yourself as an artist and the shop you worked at but it eventually became a really fun way to destress at the end of the week (or day if you were really itching to stream). “Hey Y/N was that your last client?” your boss, KC, asked as she walked to the front of the shop and put new flash drawings on the walls.
“Yes ma’am!” You said back excitedly. You finished cleaning your station and tossed your black gloves in the trash. “And you can’t trick me into staying and taking walk-ins,” you joked with her. She rolled her eyes and walked back into her office “It was one time,” she said as you slid on your jacket. As you walked out your phone buzzed in your pocket and you checked to see who had texted you. It was a message from Sean asking if you were free to play Among Us with him and some other streamers. You replied that you were on your way home right now and totally down. You were excited to see who was playing this time around since their Among Us streams are super entertaining and have gotten really popular.
On your way back you tweeted and posted to your Instagram story that you’d be streaming soon and set up all your stuff once you made it home. After a few minutes, you had a couple of thousand people watching. You entered the discord chat and Sean spoke up. “Everyone this is Y/N she’s sensitive so be gentle.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you guys and I’m not gentle, I'm ruthless,” You say into your mic and notice the chat calling you a liar. Everyone was in the lobby waiting for the game to start. “You sound way too sweet to be ruthless,” Corpse said. The countdown started and you were imposter with Charlie.
“This should be fun,” you told the stream. Yout tried playing strategically but after such a long shift your brain was mush. You saw Poki in nav and killed her then vented into shields. Not long after the body was reported and you were sure you were going to get voted out or at least sussed.
“Where was the body?” Felix asked. “Nav and I didn’t see anyone near there so whoever is imposter must have vented,” Corpse responded. Felix spoke up again. “I think I saw Y/N walk that way and I haven’t seen her since.”
Shit, shit, shit shit. “I’m in shield right now so-” you said trying to defend yourself but Charlie spoke up. “I was doing tasks with her earlier and I saw her walk into shields so she’s safe but I’m still not sure about Rae.” Everyone discussed a bit more and some people, including Corpse, voted for you but Rae got the majority vote and was ejected. You released your breath and kept playing being extra careful.
“Okay, guys that was super close. Corpse knows and is out to get me,” you said to the chat. You were eventually voted off but one round later victory was written across your screen with your ghost and Charlie’s avatar. “Good game guys,” Corpse said.
“I told you guys I was ruthless!”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
You sat at your station doing nothing because a client had canceled a four-hour session. You were listening to music and sketching some stuff but you were bored out of your mind and you didn’t want to leave in case you got a walk-in. The music got quiet as you received a twitter notification saying someone had messaged you. You reached for your phone and saw you had gotten a dm from Corpse.
C: hey :)
You didn’t know what to respond. You were mostly confused as to why he decided to message you out of the blue. Did he want something? But what would he want?
Y: Hii! This is sudden
C: was i bothering you?
shit sorry!
Y: Youre fine I wasn’t doing anything rn
C: how has your day been
i dont usually do stuff like this
Y: Im glad you did im doing better now I was so bored
C: what were you doing that was so terrible
Y: NOTHING! thats the problem :(
C: im sure youll find something to do
You stared at his message. Unsure what to respond.
Y: Im gonna give myself a tattoo
C: what?
NO!
You tossed the needles you used for your tattoo into the sharps box. “Oh my god you didn’t,” KC said. She noticed the wrap on your calve from the tattoo you just gave yourself out of boredom. “It’s not my fault I didn’t have anything else to do!” You said trying to defend yourself. She sighed and just shook her head. “Just go home business is slow today.” It was raining so the shop probably wasn’t going to get a walk-in anyway and you didn’t have any more clients for the day. It was only 2 pm but you drove home and after making lunch for yourself decided to stream. You weren’t expecting too many people so it was bound to be super chill. Your leg felt sore reminding you of the tattoo. You snapped a quick pic of the fresh jack-o-lantern on the side of your calve and messaged it to Corpse.
Y: [image] it came out nice!
C: thats super cool actually
i was concerned why you would just give yourself a tattoo but i found your instagram and youre super talented
Y: Thank you!
For some reason, it felt strange to just have that be the end of your response.
Y: Im about to start streaming if you wanted to watch
[link]
C: ill be watching ;)
What’s that supposed to mean?
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
You sat in your apartment watching tv, hand lost in a bag of Doritos, and scrolling through twitter. You had stopped paying attention to the anime playing on the screen since you’ve watched it a hundred times and knew you wouldn’t miss anything. It was Saturday and you usually take those days off. Take the time to do chores or meet up with some friends but today you felt like not doing any of those things. As you continue your endless scroll (not helping the twitter addiction you told yourself you’d try to get a handle on) you got a message from Corpse.
C: wanna talk?
You looked down at the message unsure of how to answer. It was a simple yes or no and the obvious answer was yes. You and Corpse had started talking more regularly. You still didn’t have each other’s phone numbers but it was fine. Your conversations weren’t too big-- just you sending him memes, tiktoks, and telling him how much you liked the songs he would drop. Or him complimenting a tattoo you did. Sometimes he’d message you during streams telling you funny stuff his fans would say in the chat and you’d do the same. You learned a bit about each other but nothing too deep or serious. Like how you two lived a few cities away and you both really liked Donnie Darko. When Sean first invited you to that game out of everyone else there you were most excited to meet Corpse. He’s just so sweet and funny. Of course, you’d love to talk to him but you were also itching to talk to him and the last thing you’d ever want to do was make him uncomfortable.
Y: Yeah id love to talk
Here goes nothing.
Y: Wanna facetime or something?
No pressure or anything it could even be a regular call
I think facetime is just my default lol
You sent those last two messages quickly after you had sent the first. You wished you could know what he was thinking. It was killing you to think you had turned him off from talking to you completely. You put your phone down on the couch and went to wash your hand of Dorito dust. When you got back from the kitchen you turned off the tv and tossed yourself onto the couch.
Still no message.
Why am I so fucking stupid?
Just as you were standing up to stretch from sitting on the couch all day your phone buzzed. You reached for it fast and looked to see that it was him. You became super excited still not even knowing what the message said. It could have told you to never talk to him again for all you knew.
C: sure lets facetime
xxx-xxx-xxxx
You had his phone number. You added him to your small but growing contact list and called. You sat on your couch waiting for a response when he finally picked up the screen was black. It didn’t upset you; you kind of expected it and didn’t care what he had to do to make himself more comfortable during this call.
“Hey,” he said. His voice was raspier than usual.
“Did you just wake up?” You asked and looked at the time. It was about a little past noon and you had only eaten Doritos all day. Shit, you should probably make a decent meal.
“Not that long ago but yeah,” he responded and giggled. That giggle.
“Well, I’ve eaten nothing but Doritos all day while rewatching Ouran High School Host Club, so you’re welcome to join me as I make myself something to eat.”
“Sounds like fun; what are we eating?”
“I don’t know yet,” You said as you stood up and made your way to the kitchen. You opened the pantry and looked. You noticed a can of diced tomatoes and reached for it then checked the expiration date. It was still good. On your counter were some onions and garlic. “How about some tomato soup?”
“Sounds delicious.” you smiled at Corpse and your phone screen not knowing if he was also looking at his screen or not. “You’re really pretty-- you know that?”
“Thanks, but you don’t have to--”
“I’ve already told you what an incredible artist you are so many times I bet you’re tired of hearing it, but you already know what a talented artist you are.”
“That is very kind of you Corpse,” you said to him bashfully as you chopped the onion and opened the can of tomatoes. “But once again you don’t have to reach so far to compliment me.”
“I’m not reaching you are talented and beautiful and--”
“I thought I was pretty.” You could hear him chuckle with a smile on his face. “You’re both,” he said. You could feel your face getting warm from blushing.
“Fuck you you’re making me blush. My face is all hot and stuff.”
He laughed at how flustered you got. “That’s the cutest thing ever.”
You didn’t know how to respond so you just put some olive oil in a pot and tossed in your onions. It became silent but it was a comfortable silence. You turned the stove on and watched the flame for a few seconds. “If it was dark we could pretend we were together and having a bonfire or something,” you said to the phone as you turned the camera to show him the flame (still not 100 percent sure if he was looking at you or not).
“I’ll put it on the list of things to do when you visit me someday.”
#corpse husband#corpse husband x reader#corpse husband imagine#corpse husband imagines#corpse husband x y/n#youtubers#caffeinated ramblings
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